Glee Candy
by Taylor Francis Rose
Summary: Annie Fredricks is the new girl at McKinley. Her step-brother Blaine assured her it would be fine. And it was, until she met Sam Evans. Both on a mission to prove a point; what does it turn into? Rated M for later chapters & some language. Happy reading!
1. Chapter 1

Fan-fiction. 

Glee Candy; Annie Fredricks. 

_Thursday 4__th__ April._

"Welcome home" Dad smiles.

I smile back. But it's forced. It doesn't feel like home. It feels like a motel; temporary, short-term.

I stand, facing my new house. I know what's inside the big oak door; my step Mom Janie, smiley and perfect and nice, and my gay step brother Blaine. Also smiley and perfect. And tanned and good looking. They're both really nice and stuff, but whatever. They feel temporary too. They're not my real family.

And I'm going to have to start my whole life over: New School, New House, and New Friends. New patterns and places. The only thing the same was myself. And not even that will stay the same for long. You wanna know how it got to this? Me standing outside a new house with a family which I didn't want to be a part of?

Well, I came home from a party one night. Alcohol had been served and I didn't exactly decline when someone had offered me some. So I was wrecked. And I came home to my Mom, and a bunch of losers, all ten times more drunk than I was. I got closer, with the slings of my high heels hooked over my fingers; and I saw her, head bent over a line of cocaine.

"Mom!" I'd shouted in disgust. I knew she was having problems, but this was too far.

She didn't even look up. She just slurred: "Go to bed honey"

"Oh get screwed!" I yelled.

She raised her head, and stood up. "You're drunk!" She even tripped a little as she walked, her finger pointed at me the whole way.

"At least I'm not drunk and high."

"Ugh, whatever,"

"I'm the kid, Mom!" my tears spilled over. "I'm the kid! You're supposed to help me to bed, and be sitting with me in the morning, with pills and a sick bowl for my hangover! Not the other way around!"

"Yeah, yeah sweetie,"

"I can't do this anymore. I'm done," I shrugged, simply because I didn't know what else to do.

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning,"

"No, you won't. I'm going,"

"Going where?" she frowned.

"Dad's," I told her, storming up the stairs.

"Well, what're you going there for?"

"Because he has a life; which he has control of, unlike the messy excuse that you call a life. I'm tired. I'm tired because I'm doing everything that you're supposed to do, and I'm failing everything because of it. I need school, and I'm not getting anywhere and it's all because of you and this stupid place. I'll leave in the morning,"

"Shouldn't we talk about this?"

I stopped and turned on the middle step; "I have nothing more to say to you," and with that, I walked up the staircase, and packed.

Well, as much as I could. It was impossible to get the whole contents of my wardrobe and drawers into two suitcases, so I left the rest for later.

The next morning when my Mom was sprawled across the sofa, passed out, I called Dad and got on the train.

And then, there I was.

And that was how I got here.

"You ready to go in kiddo? I'll bring your trunk,"

I nod, and walk towards the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Melrose5553 – my very first reviewer! **

**Thankyou! :D **

**So guys, I'm sorry that the Chapters are short at the minute, but they get longer as it gets more into the story. **

**I promise it gets better, I just need the introducing and all of that crap out of the way. **

**Now, some things you need to know – I totally ship Finchel (when Finn is not being a complete ass) and also Samchel because they would be totally cute together. Shame none of that is happening any time soon ): **

**Another thing – the episodes are in a different order to fit my story line. They're seriously everywhere. But it's all explained so I promise you won't get too confused. But Kurt has just moved to Dalton. Also, Dave Karofsky is an asshole. But we already knew that. **

**Anyways, I don't own Glee, because if I did it would definitely not air until after 10 p.m. and even though that's when I go to bed, it wouldn't matter because I would own Glee, and my parents wouldn't get pissed at me because I could afford to pay them to extend my tv time. **

**ANYWAY; onto chapter 2. **

_Chapter 2_

_I guess a new start wouldn't go a miss. It would mean that no one would ever have to know about any of those stupid pictures, or bad reputation._

"_Annabel!" Janie exclaims as she opens the door, and embraces me. _

"_Hey," I smile, although not too enthusiastically. _

_She ushers me inside, leaving the front door a-jar for Dad, and leads me through to their lounge. On the sofa is Blaine. _

_I know he's all perfect, and my Step-brother, and I'm not supposed to like him, but I do. He's so nice, and friendly, and I could always call him with a problem. _

_He grins widely, picking me up and swiveling me round twice before kissing my cheek. _

"_I know that the reason you packed your bags and moved are awful, but i'm so happy you came," he says._

_That was what I needed to hear. He's so genuine, and there is actual caring in his voice, which is something I haven't heard in a long time. The feeling of happiness and acceptance just from this moment bubbles up inside me until I'm sure i'm going to explode, but instead, I actually just start to cry. _

"_Hey, you're okay now," he soothes, pulling me into his arms again. _

_We stay like that for a couple more minutes, and then he suggests he show me my room. So I let him grab my hand and drag me up the staircase. _

_My room is right next to his, with a conjoining bathroom in the middle._

_Dinner is comfortable, where we stick to light subjects, such as school and the decent shops around here, then at 9 I tell them I'm ready for bed because it's been a long day. _

_2:00 a.m._

_In bed__._

_I can't sleep, so I get up really quietly, and sneak into Blaine's room. I can hear his iPod playing low in the background as I go and sit on the space next to him on his double bed. _

"_You couldn't sleep either?" he asks, startling me. _

"_It's...weird! Staring at different wallpaper; feeling a different mattress underneath me. The bed sheets have a different smell. I know, I'm odd," I shrug. It's hard trying to explain why I feel so uncomfortable and un-belonging in my new house._

_He sits up. _

"_You're not odd. You're a teenager, who's been through an ordeal, and now is having trouble adjusting to a big change. Everything is going to be different. You're old life is gone. It's going to be hard," _

"_Not to mention school," I sigh. _

"_I feel bad for not being there to help you with that," _

_He goes to Dalton Academy, and I'll be starting McKinley High. _

"_Don't worry. I'll find my own way around. Eventually," I laugh lightly, although my insides are shaking._

_I'm going to have to do this on my own. There __is__ no one but myself. _

_At this thought, I feel like crying all over again. But not in the good way, as it had been earlier. In the way where I just want to lay on my bed in a ball, and wish for the ground to swallow me up. _

"_Look out for Kurt Hummel. He's helping his parents with his new house at the minute, but when he gets back, I'd find out where he's at," Blaine tells me, "If anyone can give you a hand, it's him,"_

"_Dually noted," _

_I sit there, picking at the bed cover. _

_Blaine puts an arm around me, and kisses me forehead. _

"_You'll be fine," he assures me. _

_And a part of me believes him. I mean, he came out as gay at an all boy's school, and he's come out the other end just fine. _

_I fall asleep. _

_Monday 8__th__ April. _

_Assured is defiantly not how I feel when I get to the school campus. _

_In the locker halls, I'm surrounded by skinny girls in cheerleader uniforms of white and red, and big guys in red varsity football jackets. So, there are the cheerleaders, and the jocks that are obviously on top. Then there's the rest; the people dressed normally. Ranging from all black emo's, to chav's, to nerds, and people dressed fashionably, to people with no fashion sense at all._

_I wonder which group I'll fall into…?_

_Please review! _


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, hey guys. So, I haven't had a lot of reviews (1) but I have indeed had quite a few story alerts, so at least people are liking this, right? So, thanks to all who are reading it. I have put a lot of time and effort into this, so I would very much appreciate some reviews. _

_So, here's the deal: the more reviews I get, the faster these chapters will be uploaded. Your choice :D _

_In this chapter we'll be meeting the one and only: Noah Puckerman. What an absolute leg-end. Also sexual and stuff. _

_Once again; I do not own Glee. The man behind the Genius; Ryan Murphy does. And Fox and what-not, blah, blah.._

_Happy Reading (: _

_Ps. I told you the chapters would get loads longer!_

_Chapter 3_

_Monday 15__th__ April._

I soon learn of the Cheerio's, and the Glee club, and Coach Sue Sylvester.

However, I'm hardly any more comfortable than I was a week ago, when I'd first started.

On this Monday, I'm still trying to make a good impression. I'm wearing short shorts to show off my long, slender, tanned legs which I had been complimented on many times. A hot pink, simple strapless top, which clings to my size 6 curves and 32C chest (which I am rather proud of I must say), and a pair of denim boots, with big, chunky heels.

My blonde hair falls in loose curls to the middle of my chest, and big fringe clipped to the side.

During second period (which I have free) I'm called into Coach Sylvester's office. I had been trying to remember my locker combination when her sweet little assistant Becky came and got me.

"Yes Coach?" I ask, appearing in her doorway.

She gestures to the seats in front of her desk, and I sit.

"I'd like you to try out for the Cheerio's, Doll face,"

"Really? Why?" I question, confusedly.

"You have a good figure, and I like to have pretty cheerleaders. You ever heard of a fat, ugly cheerleader? No, I didn't think so. Tryouts, Wednesday lunchtime,"

Who said I even want to be a cheerleader?

"But-"

"Oh, and I need you to give this message to ," she adds, handing me a folded piece of paper.

"But-"

"Boys gym. Now, get out of my office,"

I leave the room, bewildered.

Who is this Puckerman? Where's the boys gym? Do I want to be a Cheerio?

I pull the school map out of my pocket (which I keep with me at all times) and after a few attempts, I find the gym.

I push open the door, and am greeted by the smell of deodorant, aftershave and a hint of shower gel. It's not particularly loud in there, so I can hear conversations.

In front of me are a couple of rows of lockers, and benches. I follow then round the corner and there it is; the gym. Filled with muscled high school jocks' doing weights and sit ups and God knows what else they do to get buff.

I feel slightly flustered, but i put one hand on my hip and look at the paper in my hand.

It's addressed to Noah Puckerman. Wow, he sounds badass.

That's when a complete douche decides to shout:

"Hey boys! Christmas came early!"

I swivel round; hand still on my hips, to find the source of the noise.

It points me to a bunch of guys, sitting on a bench doing weights. I march over.

"Excuse me?" I raise my eyebrows.

"We were just looking at those huge-" one of them starts, but gets cut off almost immediately by another guy, who stands up.

"Please, let the men handle this," he says to his friend before moving closer to me.

"I'm sorry about this douche; he's not used to seeing hot chicks this close to him before,"

I decide this is a compliment.

I also decide that this is Noah Puckerman.

And he is badass, with his head shaved all except one thick black strip down the middle. He doesn't look sorry.

"I see,"

"Speaking of which; what are you doing in here? This is no place for a chick like you," he smirks.

Implying that I'm weak. Ah, he couldn't be more wrong. But he doesn't know that, and I'm not a buzz kill.

"Oh, is that so?" I cock my head to one side.

"Yeah, it is so,"

"I guess I should probably leave then," I turn on my heel and start walking back towards the lockers.

"Whoa, I didn't say that!" he disagrees hastily, jogging to where I'm stood.

I stop, smirking. This guy is going to be easy to twist round my finger. I turn around, to find him stood not far behind me.

"Actually, I came here to deliver a letter,"

"Oh yeah, who too?"

"Noah Puckerman?" I watch his face change. This is definitely him. "He sounds like a bit of a douche to me,"

He scoffs.

"He's a total badass actually,"

"Aaah keeps everyone in line does he?" I ask, slyly.

"Damn straight!"

"Hmm," I lean on the wall. "So Puckerman,"

"It's Puck,"

"I'm sure. I have a message for you," I say, flipping the note in between my fingers.

"Oh yeah?" he steps closer.

"Mmhm,"

"Well, do you wanna give it to me?"

I poise a thinking face then answer; "No, not really,"

I turn around, and walk out, leaving him standing there.

"Bye Puckerman,"

I knock on the Football coach's door, and give it to her instead.

_Tuesday 16__th__ April_

_Free period (roughly half 10) _

As I'm walking through the halls, which are mostly empty, I hear shouting:

"You know what Santana, you can dish it out but you can't take it. Maybe you're right, maybe I am destined to play the lead role in the Broadway version of Willow, but the only job you're ever going to have is working on a pole!"

My mouth drops, and I stop to hear Santana's defence.

She has a reputation as a feisty cheerleader, and I'll bet this is like a big slap in the face for her. She won't take it lightly.

Despite my expectations, she just says:

"Fine,"

I hear footsteps, and out comes Santana.

She's wearing the Cheerio's uniform. She's pretty, with dark skin, sleek black hair, and thin, seductive eyes. Maybe she's Latin?

She leans against the wall outside the door she just walked out of, next to the lockers and opposite me. She slides down the wall, and presses two fingers to her eyes, trying to stop the tears, or the tantrum; one of the two.

"Are you okay?" I ask hesitantly.

"Yeah, walking on frikkin' sunshine," she snaps back, her death glare boring two holes in my face.

I poke my head round the classroom door.

"Harsh Rachel," a boy with brown styled hair says disapprovingly to the girl in front of him. She has long, dark hair, and olive skin.

She shrugs.

"Harsh but true,"

"You did totally own her," a blonde boy who I can't see clearly says, obviously pleased.

"Guys," the teacher protests.

"Hey, I've been brushing up on my chat up lines," the blonde guy changes the subject.

"I would totally brush mine too, but I forgot my hairbrush," a blonde Cheerio next to a guy in a wheelchair looks completely bummed.

"Not that sort of brush Brittany," a big, black girl points out.

"What other brush is there? I'm so confused," she slumps her shoulders.

"Hey, pretend I'm really hot. How're you gonna ensure that I'm coming home with you tonight?" the guy with brown hair grins at blonde boy.

"Dude, no offence, but I really don't find you attractive,"

"I know," brown boy rolls his eyes at blonde boy, "Just pretend,"

Blonde boy considers it, then turns to brown boy and says:

"Hey, you just enabled my pop up," then grins to himself.

"Wow, what a catch, I can't believe I ever let you go," another blonde Cheerio from the very back widens her eyes sounding totally bored.

"Seriously, number 1. Never, ever say that to any girl. And 2. Number 1 x a million,"

"Mercedes that would work on any girl with a sense of humour," blonde boy says to the pretty black girl from the back.

"No, no. It sounds dorky. Nerds? Major turn off. Have you never watched The Big Bang Theory?" Mercedes replies, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

"I like it. It's hot," Brittany says, looking straight at blonde boy.

"Exactly," blonde boy grins.

I wish I could see him better. I can't decide whether he's hot. Which is annoying because he looks like he is, but I need to see him close up to decide.

"Talk nerdy to me," Brittany says to blonde boy.

"TIME OUT," the teacher calls, because the guy in the wheel chair next to Brittany looks like he's ready to rip off blonde boys head. Which would be unfortunate because then I would never find out if he's hot or not.

A few of them get up, so I quickly turn back to the girl on the floor.

"Some of them might be coming out now," I inform her.

She groans, so I offer her my hand.

But she just stares at me coldly, gets up, and walks away down the hall.

I sigh, and sink into the position which Santana was in; back leant against the wall, head in hands, leg's up in front of me.

So much for being nice. That doesn't get you anywhere.

Dad said that making friends here would be easy. Natural, just like it was back home.

Oh God! I smack my head.

I have to stop referring to it like that. It's not my home anymore. This is my home.

I look around.

This is where I'll be for the best part of three years.

11th grade started a few months ago, so I have the rest of this year, then 12th grade, and senior year to look forward too.

I hate being 16. I can't wait for my birthday. It's not yet though.

What if I don't manage to make any friends?

I miss home.

I miss my mom, and my friends. Even my shitty old school.

I let the tears flow down my face, and drop onto the knees of my jeans.

"Hey Blondie," a voice says.

I look up, and find Puck standing over me. I hurry to wipe my eyes.

"S'up Puckerman?"

He crouches down in front of me.

"You don't want to know want to know what of mine is up when I can see straight down your shirt,"

I pull my grey cardigan over my low slung pink t-shirt.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just very new," I tell him truthfully.

"I did wonder," he gives me a small, sympathetic smile. "Hang with me. You'll fit right in,"

"What's in it for you?" I ask, not believing for one second that someone like Puck would do something nice for someone else just out of the 'pure goodness' of his heart, without an ulterior motive.

"Babe, do you own a mirror? Your ass will be very good for me to have around," he smirks.

I laugh. "At least my ass is good for something,"

"Yeah," he helps me up, "At least,"

_4:30 p.m._

_Home._

Puck and I hung out in an empty classroom today, just talking about stuff.

Despite first impressions, I do like him.

I'm sitting at the kitchen table with my art pad in front of me when I hear the front door bang.

"Hey," Blaine's voice comes from behind me.

"S'up?" I shade in Puck's hair.

Don't ask; I have Puck on the mind. He's my first real friend here, well, apart from Blaine. But he's my brother, so I don't really think that it counts.

"Good day?" he asks, going to the fridge, and taking out an apple.

(A/N, don't ask, I was craving apples when I wrote this).

"Grab me an apple! And yes, actually,"

He sits opposite to me, and I put down my pencil so as I can have my apple.

"Wow! An actual good day? I was starting t get a little worried," he raises his eyebrows, and loosens his tie a little.

"I wouldn't go as far as good, but it was an improvement. I made a friend," I inform him proudly.

"Is this the guy?" he questions, sliding my art pad out from under my elbow.

"Roughly,"

"You like him?"

"Please Blaine, I met the guy yesterday," I scoff, pulling my art pad back.

"Okay," he smiles secretly so as I feel like hitting him round the face.

"Whatever. I'll be upstairs," I roll my eyes, sliding off the stool and going up to my room.

_6:00 p.m._

_In the bathroom, tying my new mascara out in the full length mirror, with my bedroom door open, and my iPod blaring out. _

On comes one of my favourites:

Need You Now.

I know it's kind of corny, but I love it.

And that's how I find myself singing_:_

"_[8] Picture perfect memories,_

_Scattered all around the floor,_

_Reaching for the phone 'cos I can't fight it anymore,_

_And I wonder if I ever cross your mind,_

_For me it happens all the time,_

_It's a quarter after one,_

_I'm all alone and I need you now,_

_I said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now [8]"_

And that's when I stop because I notice my brother and another boy standing in the bathroom doorway which comes from his room, and they're both watching me, smiling.

Now I feel like a prize idiot.

"Oh God, what now?" I moan loudly, after turning off the noise in the background.

"I didn't know you could sing," he comes in looking amused. The other boy just stands there, arms crossed.

"I can't," I reply bluntly, poofing my hair in the mirror as Blaine sits on the edge of the bath.

"Actually you can," the other boy pipes up.

I swivel to face to voice just as Blaine decides to introduce him.

"This is Kurt Hummel. The boy I told you about,"

I take in his waistcoat and skinny jeans which I actually quite like. Definitely gay. I smile and hold a hand out.

"Hey Kurt. I'm Fliss- sorry, Annie," I correct myself. I am not Fliss anymore. I'm Annie Fredricks. The new and improved Fliss Fredricks. The non-slut one. The non-bitch-get-in-everyone's-business one.

"It's my pleasure. Annie has anyone told you about Glee club?" he asks, leaning on the doorframe.

"It's like a singing club right?"_ for losers, _I add mentally.

"Yes, it is. Have you met anyone from there yet? Santana Lopez from the Cheerio's? Or maybe Finn Hudson?"

"Santana? Ugh, I would rather cut my head off with a plastic spoon than be within 10 feet of her," I make a face.

I tried to help her, and she totally threw it back in my face. She was just rude.

"Ignore Santana. The others are great. Seriously, I recommend it if you're having a little trouble finding your footing," he doesn't say it like he's judging me. Just like he knows where I am, and he's been there too. Just like he understands, and knows how I'm feeling.

And there's something about that smile and camp stance which I trust.

That doesn't mean that I'll be joining this 'Glee Club', and it doesn't mean that McKinley will become more homely; it just means that I'll check it out. As it is I'm in no position to pass on friends, so I let them both into my room, and pull out the beanbags and Harribo's.

_8:30 p.m._

Turns out that Kurt just recently transferred to Dalton. And if I didn't know any better, he likes Blaine. A lot.

He explained that there was this one boy (a jock, obviously, because they all think that they own the place because they wear a football jacket) and he was making Kurt's life hell. The school board didn't do anything about it; he left. Simple as. But I don't blame him. This guy, Karofsky, sounds like the biggest dickhead of the century. Poor Kurt.

Just as he's about to leave, he turns at the door and says:

"You really should check out Glee club. I know you'd like it. And maybe you could help Rachel; she's a walking fashion disaster. I've tried, and to no avail," he sighs, shaking his head.

I laugh, and hug him before he says goodbye, and I close the door.

I'm starving. I could murder a cheese burger.

But no, Annie. Remember, you might be a Cheerio this time next week, and you need to be the hottest bitch in this joint. You need people to stare when you walk past. Obviously not excessively because that would be creepy. But enough that I can start out being mysterious and hot. I could maybe even bag a non-ass-a-holic guy.

Ha, I should be so lucky. I just need to stick with Puck, and all will be fine. I hope.

I walk out and sit in the lounge. Janie and Dad are in the kitchen. She's cooking like the perfect stereotypical wife.

"So, what do you think?" Blaine asks hopefully, sitting next to me.

"I think that I could actually eat my weight in Nacho's, but I can't because I have to look super hot for school and-"

"No, what do you think about Kurt?" he laughs, and I feel stupid for just launching into my personal thought. No one should ever find out what goes on up there.

"Oh, he was nice. And very gay," I shoot him that smug look.

"Oh, he's the gayest. But uh...it's not like that," he taps my leg jokingly.

I just say: "Okay," and give him the look he was giving me earlier which says: 'Yeah, if you say so'.

_Wednesday 17__th__ April_

Looking in the mirror, deciding if the outfit I've chosen is okay.

The weather went against my original outfit plan for today, and thought: 'hmm, no, actually, I'm going to be 10 degrees colder than that stupid weather woman told Ohio it would be just too piss everyone off'.

So instead I'm wearing a denim mini-skirt, skin tights and brown uggs, a long grey cardigan and a white button up polo top. I think it looks okay considering I only had 10 minutes to arrange it. I wear it with my hair in a scruffy bun, with a few bits loose, smoky eyes, and light pink gloss.

_10:15 a.m. _

I call Puck. I can't find him.

Well, it's not like I've looked everywhere, but we were supposed to meet and doesn't that involve both people making the effort?

"S'up Blondie?"

"My name is Annie and you know it Puckerman,"

"Yeah, yeah. What d'ya wants?"

"I wants to know where the hell you are Romeo! We were supposed to meet remember?" I remind him.

He has the memory of a goldfish. He's not really the sharpest knife in the draw. I think his brain went, along with the rest of his hair.

"Shit, I forgot. Well, go down to the room you were at yesterday. You remember right?"

"The one-"

He's already gone.

I roll my eyes, and follow the hallways, until I come to the room. Inside I can hear a load of squabbling.

Again, I poke my head around the door to see Puck sitting next to the big black girl.

He notices, and gets up, making his way towards me.

All eyes turn to the door, and I start to retreat backwards, but not fast enough.

He puts an arm around my shoulders, leads me (drags more like) into the room, and introduces me. Or something like that.

"Guys, this is my girl Blondie," I swiftly elbow him in the ribs, and he corrects himself, "Sorry, Annie. Annie Fredricks. She's new,"

"Your girl? When did we decide on that?" I mutter, flustered.

"Hey Annie. Why don't you tell Glee club about yourself?" the teacher offers as Puck pulls me towards the middle of the room, so as everyone can see me better (sucks for them).

Glee club? Puckerman is in Glee club? Really?

"Uhh...My name is Annie Fredricks. I'm 16 years old. I just moved here to live with my Dad, step Mom, and step Brother Blaine. I love to dance, and I'm kickass at singing but not outside the Bathroom. Or my bedroom but I prefer the bathroom because of the tiles and-"

"Try it now?" the teacher says.

I turn, and he's looking at me steadily.

"What?" I question, and then a girl at the front raises her hand.

"," she starts, without waiting for him to accept, "I really don't think we need any more members for Glee club. The last thing we want is to have excessive members who will be left out and-"

"Rachel, we always need new members for Glee Club. Remember Sunshine?" raises an eyebrow, and that's all it takes for Rachel to give in.

"I guess dancing in the background can be fun," she murmurs.

"So, Annie," the brown haired dude, stands from the middle row, "Turn on your iPod right now; what're you listening too?"

I think hard, and then answer:

"Stop and Stare by One Republic," and realise that I'd been listening to it earlier because it kind of represented my situation.

"Hit it!"

And just like that the familiar tune fills my ears, via the band playing in the background.

Brown haired dude on drums and Puck on a guitar.

I shake my head, but he grins, coming closer until I'm smiling despite myself and swaying with him and the beat.

And this is how I find myself singing out all of those feelings. All of which were compressed into a very small bottle at the back of my head. One which was labelled 'Do Not Open. Ever.' The situation with my Mom, those pictures, my old boyfriend... All those things he did... All the times bad things would happen and I would force myself to contain the tears. Even when I got home. I convinced myself that if I locked myself in my room and cried, then it would just be me giving up, and handing myself over. Surrendering to it, and admitting that yes, in fact, it did get to me. No, I'm not as strong as everyone thought I was.

Point number one: Must change my ways – its okay to cry.

Everyone joins in at the end. Even the guys, and there's this amazing sense of community, and team work. The sense of home which I've been dying to find.

I finish, panting, and everyone is grinning and laughing.

Puck hugs me tightly just as I hear a scoff come from the door.

Enter Santana. Of course.

"Ugh, God what's going on here?"

"We were just welcoming Annie to the Glee club," he grins widely at me.

"Seriously ? Just like that?" she asks disgustedly, putting a hand on her hip.

"Yep. And this is Glee Club. Glee Club which you're in. You need to learn the ways. First of all; acceptance. Give her a chance," he gestures to me, encouragingly.

She just throws me death glares, and stalks out.

'How typical' I think to myself, watching the door.

Where is possibly hot blonde dude?

, however, just shakes his head.

"Right everyone, mingle! Go! Annie, I want you to get as many hugs in the next 15 minutes as possible!"

I laugh loudly, and clap my hands together.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey guys! Sorry, it's been a few days, I went on holiday and my laptop crashed, and I was therefore not very happy. ANYWAY. Thank you so much for all of the story alerts! Would very much appreciate your reviews, but whatever. If you don't do it now then you should be getting a PM from me asking you what you think anyway :D _

_Now, we're going to meet Sam Evans. He's not all sweet and cuddly and dorky for reasons, so don't complain about misleading characterisation. Please enjoy :D As usual I don't own Glee. Blah blah... _

_You guys who are reading and enjoying- you're all kindsa crazy awesome. _

_Chapter 4._

_Friday 25__th__ April__._

A week passed, and I ended up taking Kurt's advise.

I've been Gleeked. I totally joined the Glee Club, and was also bribed onto the Cheerio's. Look, they had Mini Eggs, what was I supposed to do?

I got told it would help with the slushy situation, and so I quickly accepted. Slushy's are awful. Honest to God. It's like having a constant brain freeze all over your face. I pick being thrown into the air over ice cold slushy facials any day.

There's just one Gleek I have yet to meet; Sam Evans.

He's been away due to an injured shoulder or something, but he's back today for the game.

7:00 p.m.

Half an hour until kick off.

I'm observing my new reflection in the Girl's Gym mirror: I rock the Cheerio's uniform. That's when I hear:

"Ugh, Whore,"

Lovely. I know who it is before I even turn around. Of course I find myself staring into the cold eyes of the one; Santana Bitch-Till-I-Die Lopez.

"Leave it out Satan,"

"You're just jealous. You know I'd kick your ass, Barbie,"

I grimace at the nick name.

"Jealous? Of what? Kick my ass for what?" I ask, frowning, annoyed.

"We all know yous be getting on my man,"

"For the last time San, he's not yours," I hear Quinn's voice plucking the words right out of my head.

"What the hell ever. You know I'm right," she shrugs, going down to do her stretches.

"You know what Santana? You really-" I jump up to go for her, when Quinn puts her arms around me forcefully, restraining my temptation to go over there and slap her, and also cutting me off mid-sentence.

"I really what?" Santana gets up, "Piss you off?" she puts her mouth right near mine, so I can feel her breath, "I know. It's kind of my thing," she smirks, and prances off.

I shriek in annoyance, and then put my arms around Quinn, who strokes my hair.

"Cool it, Annie,"

"I'm sorry; she just makes me so freaking cranky,"

"I know, she makes everybody cranky,"

She kisses my head as I drop my arms, and tell her that I'll meet her out on the field in 15 minutes.

I like Quinn. She's really shown me the ropes.

"You know what I'm getting really fucking sick of that girl and her stupid little taunts!" I say, slamming my way into the boy's locker room.

"What'd Santana do this time?" Finn asks, carefully strapping on his gear.

"Oh, yous be totally after my man," I mimic, throwing myself down on the floor and leaning back against the wall.

"She's like that with anyone who even looks at Puck. Even Kurt." He frowns.

"You called for the God?" Puck appears in his boxers.

"No, just you," I give him a brief, sarcastic smile.

And that's when I hear my name from a couple of lockers down.

Casting Puck a 'what the hell' glance, I get up and creep round, until I find my three culprits.

"I hear she's hot. She's on the Cheerio's" one says, while another declares: "Then Puckerman's definitely got a thing for her," and I blush.

The fact that Santana is constantly breathing down my neck is just one good reason to stay away from any sort of relationship with Noah. Another one is the fact that the guy is a complete player, who strongly believes he is indestructible since he wears a letterman jacket and stole an ATM. Even if it was funny.

"While you two continue gossiping like old women, I'll be seeing her on Monday," I hear the voice coming from the back of a blonde head.

He has a sexy voice. Like an 'Oh my God, I need to clamp my mouth shut else I'm going to drop several low notes' voice. That's how sexy it is.

"How come?" one asks in shock.

"One of the perks of Glee Club, Olli," he pats his team mate on the shoulder as I realise with a jolt who it is.

"She's in Glee Club?" the other guy who isn't Olli questions in shock, then turns back to his locker, and mutters "Damn,"

This must be Blonde dude whom I saw not-so-clearly before. The one with the stupid pick up line. Damn it I wish he would turn around.

"Will Sam Evans be turning his swag on?" Olli asks, nudging Blonde dude.

So, I think to myself, this is the Sam Evans. The Glee Clubs Beiber/Hot shot Quarter-Back of the school.

"Please Curley," Sam says, as if exasperated, "Sam Evans's swag is never off,"

"So, you reckon you could pick up this Annie girl?"

"Maybe," Sam shrugs confidently, "But I need to check out the scenery. You don't buy the candy without tasting it first,"

"You don't?" the jocks ask in unison.

Sam shakes his head, "No,"

"You know, I heard that her middle name is Fliss, which I think is pretty hot," Olli reveals to his team mates excitedly.

"What sort of candy d'ya think this Annie Fliss chick is?"

Sam stops, obviously thinking.

Well, I can only see his back. And quite nice it is too. I mean, as far as backs go, his is pretty sexy.

"You know what Fliss reminds me of? Candy Floss. All sweet and soft and pink and melt in your mouth,"

And this is when I choose to intervene, interrupting the stupid laugher of Olli and Curley.

"Hmm, I'm gonna have to disagree with you on that one," I tilt my head to the side as I come round the corner into full view, and lean my foot against the lockers opposite them. The all rotate their bodies to face me, mouths on the floor. "I'd say I was more of a...gobstopper," I whisper seductively, making my lips pop. I go up to Sam, using just one manicured finger to lock the boys mouth shut, and then wink, pleased with the reaction I get. Then I turn on my heel and walk away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind, hips swinging the whole way.

When I get back to Finn and Puck I have to catch my breath. Sam Evans = Blonde Dude. Blonde Dude up close = serious butterflies and tingles in places where there should not be butterflies and tingles. He is _really_ hot! The body of an Adonis. His eyes are green-ocean blue. The ones you can fall into. And that mouth... _Jeez_. To walk away was all I could do to stop myself from accidentally slipping and falling onto his lips.

Back to the situation in hand, I smack both guys on the padded shoulders.

"Guys! Why didn't you tell me that Sam Evans is a blonde haired, blue eyed God with the body of a Greek Adonis?" I scream in a whisper, my stomach still doing back flips.

"Sorry, It must've slipped my mind," Finn widens his eyes as he's tying up his shoes.

"Besides, he's not that great to look at," Puck shrugs.

"Yeah, try telling that to my brain. And the evidence,"

"What evidence?" Puck demands.

"I've been at this school for two weeks. Do you know the name that's been eating away at my ears for that amount of time? The female student body have Sam Evans programmed into their system, I swear it. Whether it's swooning or gossiping, it's all about him," I point out.

"She has a point..." Finn says hesitantly, looking slightly bummed.

"No dude! Don't go over to the dark side! You're just pissed off because you have to share the Quarter-Back spot with him,"

Then they start nagging at each other like 7 year olds, while I stop my brain (which is currently on fast forward) and think things through.

Sure, this Sam guy is the most gorgeous guy I've ever seen in person, but he doesn't need to know that. I remember that I am basically locker room talk, and this gorgeous hunky Sam thinks that he can click his fingers, and I'll land in his lap. I wonder if he has nice hands. Like, muscular and big and what not. Obviously not crazy big, because that would just be creepy, but-

STOP. My thoughts screech to a halt, like a train. Well, in my head they do.

I've been doing an awful lot of over-thinking lately, and it's really annoying. I just zone out and babble on about crap. But it's not even out loud; it's in my head, so everyone just thinks I'm weird.

ANYWAY, Sam is on the football team. He's a jock, and every last one of them is a sucker for the tease. Example 1:

"Guys on the football team are a sucker for the tease right?"

It's something about their 'player-ness'. Don't ask me, my head and boys are confusing enough as it is. Put them both together and you'd end up with a powerful mystifying machine called 'The Bamboozler'.

"Pfft, no. We don't go to the chicks. We're studs. The women come to us. Right Finn?" Puck smacks Finn's shoulder, encouraging him to spur on the bullshit he's spewing.

"Erm...y-yeah," Finn stutters, clearly confused. Mind you, it doesn't take a lot. You ask him a question like that on the spot, and he looks like a rabbit caught in headlights. It's funny because he makes it so obvious that he's inside his own head, and not listening to a word outside of it.

Sound familiar? Um...

"Mmhm," I give them a 'yeah, if you say so' look. The one which Blaine and I exchange quite a lot.

Example number 2:

I put my white tennis shoe high on the wall, and stretch up.

"What uh," Finn clears his throat, "What are you doing?"

"Stretching,"

I pause, then twist my head a little so as I can see the two boys.

"Hey Finn?"

He answers immediately, "Yes?"

"Could you help me, please?" I ask innocently, and he comes over.

I place one of his hands on the underside of the thigh which is stretched up, and his other hand on my low waist. Then, throwing Puck a cheeky wink, presume my original position; both hands on my foot placed on the wall above me and forehead resting on my bare shin.

And that's when Sam and the two other jocks decide to make an appearance. He looks HOT (A/N; look, just the underline wouldn't do it. It had to be in capitals too) with those big shoulder pads. Mmmmmm...

"What's going on in here lads?" the one called Curley questions, while Sam just folds his arms.

"Finn is just helping me stretch is all," I smile, and raise an eyebrow especially aimed in Sam's direction.

"You do look very...flexible," he comments suggestively, his eyebrow arching right back.

"I used be a gymnast," I shrug.

"I see,"

"Yes, you will. But another time. I've heard that gymnasts are hard to please. Is the star Quarter-Back much of an entertainer?" I inquire, pushing my chest out to stretch my shoulders.

"Oh, he is. He could keep you entertained for hours,"

I chuckle softly at the seductive smirk which is playing around that gorgeous pouty mouth.

'I bet you could' I think to myself but don't say out loud.

There is one thing I can tell you about this boy:

He's the shit, and he knows it. And he also knows that everyone else knows it too. He's a man-whore, and thinks that he can get anyone. Which he probably can. But that is most definitely not the point. The point is that he can't get me. He just assumes he can. But he can't. Not unless I let him. Which I won't.

Not yet anyway.

"Don't you boys have a game to get too?" I ask, dancing out the door, but just stopping to grin at their faces on the way out.

Sam's mouth is curled up into a smile, Puck's looking very amused, Finn's mouth is hanging open in shock, and Olli and Curley just look awkward. I have to leave, giving them one last wink, before running out onto the felid, unable to contain the laughter. It's so weird. I'm not normally like this; all badass and flirty, but it's just something about this Sam guy. It's like an adrenaline rush or something.

_Tuesday 30__th__ April. _

_11:05 a.m._

Break/Beginning of a free period.

I get too Glee, arm in arm with Finn. There is a huge kerfuffle.

'Then again, this is Glee. When isn't there a huge kerfuffle?' I think to myself with a sigh.

isn't here.

"What the hell in going on?" I try to shout, unlinking my arm from Finn's. That doesn't work, so I go for attempt two. I walk up to the front, whistle loudly, and lift up my top, exposing my very nice pink and black lace bra, and its contents. It has effect; almost immediately everyone falls silent, and is staring towards the front.

I vaguely hear Santana mumble 'Slut', but I pretend that couldn't care less.

"Okay," I pull my top back down, "now will someone kindly tell me what's going on?"

"Rachel was going to have a party for Glee, because her Dad's have gone away, and then Santana hitch hiked her idea," Mercedes offers me.

"Then the party is obviously Rachel's," I shrug, frowning, and annoyed. Seriously, how hard can it be?

"It was my idea first!" Rachel starts again, glaring at the Latina.

"Please hobbit, your idea of a party is playing Twister and Just Dance, with jelly and ice cream," Santana retaliates, and the room falls quiet.

Rachel looks seriously uncomfortable. That obviously is her idea of a party.

"Well...I happen to like Twister," Finn says helpfully, still standing in the doorway.

"And I love ice cream," Britany adds, smiling sweetly.

"And I'm awesome at Just Dance," Mike pitches in.

And that's when I spot Sam. And my heart skips about 3 beats. And he's wearing a dark blue check shirt.

"But I'm obviously kick ass at both," he grins, aiming it at me.

"Obviously," I place a hand on my hip, as if unimpressed.

"Oh Hell no, not you as well Sam," Santana throws me the filthiest look ever, and crosses her arms in Sam's direction.

"Well then it's decided," Mercedes announces, "The Rachel Berry House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza is officially ago,"

"Mine. Saturday. 8:30," Rachel rubs it in Santana's face.

I'm waiting for the girl to get up and slap Rachel. Scream at her. Something. But instead, she just sits there looking as if she's sucked a lemon. The feisty cheerleader always falls short of my expectations when it comes to the actual fight i.e. there never is one.

"Guys!" 's voice sounds from behind, so I head towards the rows of seats.

Sam points to the chair that's vacant next to him mockingly because he's definitely expecting the sarcastically narrowed eyes which I throw at him while taking a seat next to Quinn and Tina.

I giggle when Finn takes the space next to Sam. That must be awkward after Friday.

"Groups!" smiles, "Of 3,"

"Right," Finn nods, urging more details.

"Performing on Friday! Go, impress me!" and that is quite literally all we get.

For 15 minutes we all sit and discuss civilly (10 minutes of screaming over each other) who will be going in groups with who.

Finally we decide on: Sam, Artie, and Britany; Mike, Tina, and Puck; Finn, Santana and Mercedes; Me, Quinn and Rachel.

"I have an idea," I say as we head to our corner, before Rachel gets the chance to get in there first with a Broadway Musical number. Don't get me wrong, Broadway and Musicals are great. But this has the potential to be really fun, and somehow I don't think that 'Singing in the Rain' etc, is going to cut it.

"Shoot," Quinn smiles.

"I think we should do a modern number. Maybe throw in some dancing and-"

"I disagree," Rachel butts in almost immediately, just as I knew she would.

"Rachel! I just defended you up there. You get your party; I get my song, capeiche?" I say in the strongest voice I have possible.

She takes a deep breath, and I can almost see the thoughts.

'_Give it a chance Rachel. She's right, you get your party, and maybe you can lay low just this once. Modern can be fun. And you don't want to be working with them if they hate you. Glee Club is acceptance, and I don't want to be like Santana.' Rachel thinks to herself. 'Remember what happened with Sunshine?' She shudders at the memory. 'Everyone __hated__ you, even more than they did before, which you didn't think was possible. There's not a lot you can do about Quinn, but Annie is new, and maybe she won't hate you on instinct like everyone else. It's a long shot, but don't jeopardise any chance you might have'._

Rachel takes a deep breath then says "Only if Quinn agrees," stiffly.

"Who's That Chick by Rihanna," I study Quinn's reaction, "It would be really fun. We could get all dressed up and stuff. Fun?"

Jeez, I'd be a crap sales person. My on the spot vocabulary is that of a 5 year old child.

"Done," Quinn winks.

From Rachel's expression she was totally banking on Quinn saying no.

Quinn knows that too.

_Wednesday 1__st__ May_

keeps me behind at lunch, after Spanish. I try to avoid because I'm probably failing it, but whatever. I've never been good at languages.

However, it's to talk about Glee. He leans against the table and pats the space next to him. I hoist myself onto the desk.

"Annie, I know I'm a teacher and all, but I feel as if I don't know you very well, and in Glee, it's important that everyone knows a bit about each member. I know you probably think this is really weird and everything, but I hope that you think of me not just as a teacher but as a friend,"

I don't think it's weird. Not really. I mean, it's never happened before, but I do see the guy every day. I guess it's actually quite nice that he wants to know a bit more about me. Not a lot of people know anything about me. Puck. Kurt. Quinn.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Will Schuster," he grins, and holds his hand out.

I laugh, and shake it. "Annie Fliss Fredricks,"

"Nice to meet you Annie,"

"You too Will,"

"Don't make a habit of that," he warns me, "At least, not in front of any other students,"

I laugh.

"Well, I'm pretty normal. I live with my Dad, step mom and her son, Blaine. The one which is friends with Kurt," I inform him, "I promise we don't go home and trade Glee Club secrets or anything," I assure the teacher.

"Glad to hear it," he wipes his brow, "You're actually just what this Club needed,"

I look at him, confused.

"You just sort of...know how to deal with people. Like, Santana and Rachel,"

"They just need to be knocked down a peg or two," I shrug.

"They all like you, you know?" he smiles at me.

I find myself smiling, which is crazy.

When I was preparing to come to McKinley I told myself over and over that I didn't care if people liked me, or if they didn't. Either way, it wouldn't make a difference. And that was a big fat lie, even if I only told it to myself. Now, I find myself happy and blushing at the fact that people really seem to enjoy my company. That didn't happen a lot back in LA. My friends were two faced, and spent their lives bitching about everyone. Still, they were popular, and fun to party with, and they got us into all the right places. But there are people here who actually like me. I'm myself here. Not bitchy exterior Fliss.

"Especially Puckerman. And Sam," he interrupts my thoughts with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yeah, they're a little bit obsessed with me," I joke, then turn serious, "No, I'm the new girl. I get it," I shrug.

"How do you feel about solo's?" he questions after a minute.

I tilt my head to the side.

"Awesome. Why? Are we doing them soon?"

"Then it's settled. In a couple of weeks, solo's it is. Go get lunch," he pats my shoulder and I hop down off the desk.

"Oh, and Annie," I stop at the doorway, "At least pretend to be paying attention to my Spanish. I know that the back of Sam's head is very interesting. The blondeness fascinates me too. But just try to be less distracted with him in the near future,"

I blush, embarrassed that I'd been caught.

"I can't promise anything," I grin, and exit the classroom, heading straight to my locker.

On the inside of the door is a picture of me, Blaine, and Kurt, and me and Quinn.

Suddenly there's a loud 'beeping' noise. I ignore, as it becomes louder and faster until it sounds like it's behind me, so I turn around, and Sam's in my face.

"Sorry about that. My kiss ass radar started going off," he smirks.

"Probably because it's attached to you,"

"Ouch, besides, I'm not the one who just stayed behind to have a nice friendly chat with ,"

"You've really resulted to stalking now?" I turn on my heel and walk down the hall, past all the buzzing students.

He follows me.

"I was in your class Annie, Jeez, I'm not that much of a creep," he puts an arm around my shoulders.

"Oh, you are. I think that you're just maybe a little bit deluded," I reply, although I don't shake him off. His arm around me feels kind of nice, so just for the moment, I let him steer me to the cafeteria.

"Now don't you feel special?" he asks.

"And why would that be?"

"Look around," he gestures as we walk to the lunch line, "You walk to lunch with the Quarter-Back on your arm, instantly you're more popular than you were yesterday,"

I turn to face him, his arm sliding off my shoulders.

"I think," I stroke the loose bits of blonde fringe out of his eyes, "That someone has taken too many footballs to the head,"

He shrugs.

"It's the high school food chain Annie. We're in Glee; we have to do whatever we can to stay on top, especially with that handicap. I'm just telling you how it is,"

"Sure you are. And I'm just telling you that you're a stuck up, stereotypical asshole. Just another typical jock. Seriously, I'm not obsessed with popularity, and even if I was, I'm a Cheerio, and I wouldn't need yours," and with that I turn and walk away to find Puck.

'_Good one Evans' Sam thinks to himself as he watches her walk away. He slumps against the wall. All of that popularity crap would've worked with any other girl except her. And Santana. She doesn't buy any of the shit he's selling and it confuses him. She genuinely believes that he's an asshole. He needs not necessarily another plan, but a different angle..._

Puck's pretty easy to find; at a table with Finn, Artie, and Mike, one arm slung around a pretty brunette Cheerio. I'm the only one who has refused to wear the Cheerio's uniform every day.

I hated having to wear uniform in my old school, so it's total bliss to wear my own clothes, and I will not be going back to my uniform wearing ways anytime soon.

Sue made a deal with me: I'm her runner/messenger, and I only have to wear the Cheerio's outfit for games and practise.

Practise is on Monday, Wednesday and Friday after Glee, which usually ends at about 4:30.

I sit down between Finn and Artie.

"You Blondie," Puck nods his head to me.

Oh my Jeez, we haven't actually started the head nodding thing have we?

"This is Genie," he now nods to the girl he has his arm draped around.

Evidentially yes, the head nodding has officially begun.

The girl smiles. She takes on the manor of someone shy.

"Hey, I'm Annie," I smile back.

"I know who you are. New girl, Cheerio. I have Sam Evans and Puck and a whole lot of other jocks in my class. Yeah, boys gossip too. Anyway, in a nutshell, I know who you are,"

I look at her as if to say 'Yeah, right,"

"It's true," Artie backs her up.

Finn nods. "It is true,"

I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"They only want me for some ass. That all guys on the football team ever want from a girl,"

"That's true," Puck nods.

We all look at him.

"What?" he shrugs.

His new 'piece of ass' doesn't seem to notice.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys! I'm so sorry I haven't been able to update in ages because my laptop crashed! But I'm now dorking it out at the library with my best friend (I love you Kathryn :D) just to bring you this sexual, drunken chapter (: I hope you enjoy it. (You better do, because I traipsed all the way here to do it). _

_No, I __still__ don't own Glee. The rights belong to Ryan Murphy and Fox and blah, blah, blah. _

_Thanks for the reviews! _

_And greeneyedbaby- for some reason my PM thing was disabled, but now I enabled it so PM me and we shall talk about this! Plus, thanks for the review :D_

_And thank you so much to everyone who's reading it. (: _

_ENJOY. _

_Chapter 5._

_Friday 3__rd__ May_

2:00 p.m.

Showtime.

Me, Quinn and Rachel spent all free period doing our hair and makeup.

We made it bright, all three heads of hair in curls, and our outfits – amazing.

Me; wearing a skin tight, one shouldered, layered turquoise mini-dress and big, black, shiny platform stiletto's. (I had to practise dancing in them. It hurt.)

Quinn wearing shorts, and an oversized green, ruffled top to go with her makeup, and black pumps.

Rachel wearing a pink rah-rah skirt, and a navy panelled tube top, with black stilettos. Rachel Berry; hot? Erm, I think so! She just needs to change her parting and wear more makeup and she could be one of the hottest girls at McKinley! But whatever. If she wants to forever be Rachel Barbra Virgin-Till-I-Die Berry, then she can carry on with her 'Librarian chiq' look. I guess one can learn to love those dodgy animal sweaters, knee socks, and plaid skirts.

Our group is going second, after Finn, Mercedes and Santana. We all still have 10 minutes left for practise. Everyone except group one goes and sits in the front row of the auditorium. And that's when the doors open, and in file at least 100 students. Alot of the Glee members seem excited to have an audience. I'm not. My stomach gets all invaded with butterflies and knots, and my heart starts thumping in my ears. My palms break out into sweat.

"I'll be right back," I assure Rachel and Quinn, and probably myself, before making a hasty exit.

I find myself in the cafeteria, holding a plastic cup of water in a shaking hand.

'Pull yourself together, for Gods sakes Annie. It's just some stupid school kids' I curse myself for being so silly.

I put the water down on a table, and lean against it, squeezing my eyes shut and breathing in and out, very slowly, to calm my nerves. I'm not usually shy about a lot of things, but this is different. This is me going out on stage and singing into a microphone, which is linked up to the speakers in every corner of the auditorium. My voice will be blasted out, and what if it's crap? What if I forget the words, or fall over? I'll make a complete ass of myself, then be embarrassed for the rest of my life.

"Are you okay?"

I open my eyes, glad someone bothered to follow my swift departure, and find myself staring at the face of Sam Evans. And my stomach does not one, but two back flips. Even though I'm supposed to detest him because he wants me for a quick 'hump and dump'.

"Why the hell do you care?" I snap back, then regret it because he seems genuinely concerned.

"Why do you hate me?" he questions curiously, putting his hands in his jean pockets, and leaning against the table opposite.

"Because, you're that guy," I murmur softly, keeping my head down.

He laughs: "That guy?"

"Yeah. You know, the one who screws anything with a pulse, and knows how hot he is. Who thinks that he owns the place because he carries a letterman jacket and is self obsessed?"

"You do realise that you just called me hot right?"

"You do realise that you just proved my point, right?"

"Oh Annie," he sighs, "Why do you always think the worst of me?"

"Because Sam, at the minute that's the only bit you've shown me," I reply.

"We've been 'acquainted' for a week. I wouldn't say that we really 'know each other',"

"Oh, I feel I know you all too well," I mutter.

I watch him push himself off the table, and walk toward me.

"All that stuff you said before? No, that's not me," he leans down and breathes in my ear, "You'll learn that," his cheek almost touches mine, before he pulls away and clears his throat. "Now," he looks at his watch, "We should really get going, or i'm pretty sure that Rachel will have a seizure or something," he points over his shoulder. "You'll be amazing. I promise," and he actually smiles.

Not the smirk I've gotten used to over the past week, but a proper smile I didn't know he was capable of. It's really charming, his smile. And I don't even hate myself for thinking it.

'Never regret something which made you happy'.

Sam's real smile makes me happy, I decide, and with that in mind, I follow him back to the auditorium.

Finn, Mercedes and Santana perform 'Dynamite' by Taio Cruz, and although I hate to admit it they pull it off really admirably.

And then it's my turn. Quinn, Rachel and I do our vocal warm ups, and then the music starts.

**Me: [8] Feed me adrenaline, movin' under my skin, it's an addiction, such an eruption, - is my remedy, - the energy, music is all I need [8]**

_I dance my way onto the stage, silently being thankful that the dance rehearsals paid off, and then Quinn and Rachel follow me on, before taking my left and right, and joining in._

**All: [8] Baby i just wanna dance, I don't really care, i just wanna dance, i don't really care, care, care, **

**Rachel : in the air, air, **

**All: she's a meaner, crazy -, disco diva and you wonder, who's that chick?[8]**

_**(A/N: Ect., serious case of C.B.A right now. It's half 12, just come home from work. I'm hungry, and my back hurts, so I'll just put what I wrote in the first place) **_

The music booms out of the speakers, and I try not to look down at our audience too much, but when I peek I end up catching Sam's eye. And he's smiling. And then I feel as if the Sam I've known, isn't the Sam I know anymore. He's the Sam I suspect I'll relate too and understand alot better.

When we finish, the audience actually start to clap. I beam widely and take a bow as Glee club 'whoop', the audience applaud, and rubs his proudness in Sue Sylvester's face.

Afterwards, he tells us that we need to find a song which suitably promotes 'Alcohol awareness' week. I personally find it funny that no one will remember that after tomorrow night.

_Saturday 4__th__ May._

_7:30 p.m._

Officially 1 hour left the party at Rachel's commences.

Blaine is dropping me off, and then coming back for the last few hours.

Plus, I need to look hot. Like – Sam pulling hot. Don't ask me why, I want to know if the Sam Evans I met yesterday in the Cafeteria was telling me the truth.

And so I go for the unobvious; High waisted skin tight dark denim jeans. Pink and cork sling-back heeled sandals; a black low v-neck top, with roucheing down the middle and a big pink belt around my waist, wonky.

I wear this complete with bimbo hair and makeup; false eyelashes, perfected skin, light pink shiny lips, slightly rose tinted cheekbones and curly hair.

(The obvious look, btw, would be a mini skirt, or a dress. Party wear. But I want people's mouths to plummet when I drop the coat)

I put essentials in a small bag: Body spray, tic-tac's, makeup and my iPod.

I go out, closing my bedroom door on the way out, and down to the lounge where Blaine told me he'd be waiting. I grin at myself in the mirror as I clunk down the stairs and peer round the doorway of the lounge.

"You ready?"

Blaine nods, and stands, hoping to escape the cynical parent inquisition. As if we'd be so fucking lucky.

"Those shoes are a bit high. Where are you going dressed like that?" that's Dad.

"To a party," I answer. If i keep the answers short, hopefully he'll get the gist and leave me alone.

"Who is holding this 'party'?" that's Janie.

"A girl from Glee Club,"

"Where is this party? What'll be going on?"

Oh my Jeez, what does he think?

"Look, despite the TV documentaries and endless news stories, we will not be going to an illegal rave, and take crap that's sold off street corners to shoot up our arms or anything. It's at her house. Which is big and expensive, so there won't be very much jumping around in case we break anything. It's Rachel Berry," I try to explain, exasperated, "She's the most picture perfect girl at our school. She gets a slushy in the face almost every day. She wants to be on Broadway. She shops at Kids R Us. We'll be eating ice cream and playing Twister, so can I go now?" I say impatiently.

"There's no need to be rude," Janie's perfectly plucked eyebrows shoot up to her perfectly bleached hairline.

"I thought I was supposed to be the one giving lectures," Dad frowns disapprovingly, "Is it all true Blaine?"

"Yes sir," Blaine nods.

"Okay, don't be late then. Off you go,"

I hurry out, Blaine in tow. I'm slightly offended that my own Dad had to ask a second opinion after that incredibly long and heartfelt speech, and as soon as Blaine said 'Yes sir' he was just like 'okay then'. Maybe I should take up calling him sir...?

No, because then I would feel like I lived in the house from that Musical _'The Sound Of Music'_ which wouldn't be good. It would be embarrassing.

_8:45 p.m._

We pull up outside Rachel's.

The party started 15 minutes ago. I know that Mercedes and Kurt wouldn't let her plan this party alone (otherwise it would've been a disaster) and so they'll already be here.

I see Quinn and Britany pull up, so I kiss Blaine on the cheek, thank him, and get out of the car.

"Hey!" Quinn and Brit greet me, and each slide an arm around my waist.

I smile.

Britany is wearing sailor shorts, long socks, heeled ankle boots and a baggy navy and white striped top. Her hair is down, with a slight kink too it.

Quinn is wearing a gold and coral knee length dress.

"You look so nice," I compliment them both.

"Thanks, I came as a Fisherman," Britany beams.

"A sailor Britany, a sailor," Quinn corrects her, shaking her head.

Quinn is so pretty and feminine, and Brit totally rocks the look. Who knew she was a fashioneista?

Me and Quinn just share a smile at Britany's blondeness.

I knock on the front door of the Berry's house and Kurt answers, looking completely drained.

"What's up Kurt?" I ask, hugging him and stepping over the threshold.

"Do you know what Rachel wanted to wear for this evening?" he inquires, embracing the other two.

"What did she want to wear?"

"You don't even want to know," he shakes his head as if he can't even say it, and the memory is too awful, "It took me too long to force her out of it. I don't wanna go back there. No Blaine?" Kurt's voice now sounds a little disappointed.

I chuckle at the tone, removing the black wrap around button up coat which is covering my outfit.

The mouths around me do plummet, and I'm satisfied.

"He's coming later," I inform Kurt, who then pretends like he's not even interested, but he so is.

"I have to admit, that brother of yours is fine," Mercedes comments, earning a death glare from Kurt.

"Fine, and very gay," I point out, sitting down on the sofa next to Quinn.

Mercedes just makes a face, and then I realise that we're missing our host.

"Where's Rachel?"

"Trying to find out which one of the thousand keys unlocks her Dad's alcohol cupboard," Kurt sighs.

I remember the conversations from earlier in the week:

"There better be liquor, because a Rachel Berry party is not something I can do sober," Santana had said, and that had started Rachel off:

"You can't get drunk! It's my parents house, and we're all underage! I don't want things to get out of hand," she'd said defensively, and at this statement Santana had declared that she would be expecting a rather bad headache at about 7:59 p.m.

"Well, i don't care. I don't need alcohol to have fun," Rachel stuck her nose in the air.

This lead to Puckerman having serious 'sexy words between hot Jews' and he managed to convince her to break into her Dad's alcohol cupboard. Only God knows how he did it, but we all know that he and Rachel have a soft spot for each other; something about the fact that they're both Jewish. I don't know; I've lost track of the absolute crap which Puck emits from that rather nice mouth. It's still not a patch on Sam's though.

"This could take a while!" Rachel shouts from somewhere deeper in the house.

Everyone lets out a joint sigh, and then Quinn wonders for us all: "Where's the music?"

Mercedes points to a speaker system in the corner of the room. I go over and pick up her iPod. It's locked.

"IPod password Rach?" I call.

"If I sought after people getting into my iPod then I wouldn't bother with such things as security would I? It's highly complex, so I wouldn't try if I were you," is the snappy yet somehow desperate reply I get.

I type in 'Finn' and sure enough, it unlocks. Smiling to myself I browse her music selection.

Broadway, Broadway, Broadway...

Definitely not party material. I switch our iPod's, thankful that I thought to pack mine for 'just in case' emergencies, such as this one. I'm sat on the floor busily making a playlist, when the doorbell goes, and Artie and Finn's voices join the rest.

"What're you doing?" Finn asks.

"Trying to get this party started, which would be virtually impossible given Rachel's choice in music. I, however, have saved us all. I brought my iPod, you know, just in case of situations like this, which are bound to crop up at a Rachel Berry party," I explain.

"Thank God. The last thing I would've wanted is to be sat around awkwardly with our wine coolers and the Funny Girl soundtrack playing in the background," Finn, who couldn't make the fact that he's relieved any more obvious, says. Well, he could, but it would involve a celebration dance. I've seen him try and it's not pretty.

We start a conversation about the alcohol awareness song selection, and I add the song to my playlist as Britany comes over and sits on Artie's lap.

I'm not going to lie; they are mega cute. Neither of them stop smiling when they're around each other.

_9:10 p.m._

Rachel finds the key behind the coffee pot, and starts muttering to herself: 'why didn't I check there earlier' and such like while unlocking the big door.

We're in luck: Vodka, Whisky, Beer, and Cider.

"Don't you think that your parents will notice if half their alcohol stock is gone?" Finn asks anxiously, as Rachel fills our arms with 6 packs of beer, bottles of vodka, and shot glasses.

"They don't drink. This is for guests when we throw parties. And this is a party right? So i'm entitled to it," she shakes her head, bringing another 2 bottles of vodka through to the lounge and instructing us to put it all on the coffee table.

None of us argue because she sounds like she's trying to convince herself more than us.

The doorbell goes.

"I'll get it, you set out the glasses and drinks," she smoothes down her little pink dress, plasters a massive smile on her face, and disappears into the hallway.

"Is she ever not bossy?" Quinn asks, and Finn answers "No, not really,"

I put the glasses at one end of the table, and drinks at the other. The guys each help themselves too beer and Rachel reappears with Puck and Genie.

"Oh! Annie, it's really...um...interesting what you've done with the glasses, but that's not how you do it," she nudges me out of the way and begins rearranging it all.

I sigh, and embrace Puck and Genie.

Genie looks stunning;

Her hair is curled; she has natural makeup, and a green panelled mini dress.

She's still the shy cheerio which I met two days ago, but I doubt she'll be shy when she's got some vodka in her system, and I also doubt that Puck will let her leave with her innocence intact.

_Flashback. _

_Rachel's sitting at the piano in one of the music rooms, when Puck and Genie come in._

"_What's going on my hot little Jewish American princess?" _

"_What do you want Noah?" she asks knowingly. _

"_Word on the street is that," Puck starts, and Genie carries on: "Your Dad's are out of town," they both lean on the piano and look Rachel expectantly. _

"_Yes, they're on the – Cruz. But how did you know that?" she asks, her brows rising slightly. _

"_Its information a guy like me tends to know," Puck shrugs, "So i'm thinking – party? Your place?" _

"_You just want somewhere to get drunk and have sex," Rachel deduces, wrinkling her nose. _

"_Yeah, there's a word for that; a party!" Puck grins childishly as Genie rests an elbow on his shoulder. She's shorter than him but that doesn't stop her. _

"_No way. My Dad's left me home alone because they trust me," _

"_No, they left you alone because you __suck__ and are a total bore," Genie rolls her eyes and leaves the room, with Puck on her heels_.

_Present_

_9:15 p.m._

Standing with Puck, Genie, and Finn.

And I'm thinking about Sam. I can't help myself okay? It doesn't look like he's going to show, which for some weird reason depresses me. Therefore I look fondly at the solution in hand; a vodka shot, and down it before asking Finn to dance with me.

He follows me into a more open space, on the outside of where everyone else is dancing. He puts his hands on my hips, and I position mine round his neck as we sway to the music.

I watch Rachel's face turn sour as she looks up at us. And this is when Sam decides to walk to walk in, accompanied by Blaine.

Ooh, he's wearing a navy shirt, and posh jeans and his hair all messy and he looks really sexy and stuff.

"Oh my God, Finn, Oh my God," I whisper, resting my forehead on his chest.

He turns to see Sam being greeted.

"Annie, please tell me you do not have the hots for Beiber Lady Lips,"

I smack his arm. Hard.

"That's nasty. And no, I am most definitely not crushing on that gorgeous head of hair..."

"It's the Beiber look isn't it? Damn it! It's stupid! Justin Beiber's so gay!"

"Justin Beiber is a beautiful human being!" I protest.

"If you like 12 year olds,"

"Don't hate on the Beibs," I warn him with my serious 'eyebrows raised' face.

"Whatever,"

"You're a dick,"

"You have bad taste,"

"Yeah, why am I dancing with you?" I say in mock disgust, tapping his cheek and heading over to Genie.

"Look who made a guest appearance," her gaze flickers to Sam. I say flickers, but really she just stands there staring at him. And I know that because I'm staring too. He looks like such a stud; leaning against the door frame, a beer in his hand, laughing and talking, and occasionally flicking his fringe out of his eyes.

"Please," I scoff, "You're talking like he's Royalty,"

"Annie; look at him,"

I see her point, but I will deny it.

"Puck or Sam?" I ask coyly, to steer her away from this dangerous topic of me admitting that I'm attracted to Sam.

"Both,"

"At the same time?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Yep. That would be a hot Sandwich," she nods, blatantly checking Sam and Puck out, and imagining that sandwich, which gets me imagining it and I snap out of it, totally weirded out.

I have an overly active mind.

"I'm sensing a threesome," I joke, but then realise that Genie is probably quite serious.

"You won't be joining us?"

"Erm..." as much as I hate to admit how tempting the idea is, I come up with an excuse, "Uh... Christian. No sex before marriage. Especially not group sex with hot people," I nod, and mentally kick myself.

No sex before marriage? Yeah... Good one. That's about as likely as Puck becoming a male nun. And setting up a nunnery in...Germany.

"What a shame. I was quite looking forward to our foursome," she raises her beer to her lips, and I'm beginning to think that she really is serious.

"How would that even work?" I wonder aloud. We both tilt our heads to the side and shake the pictures out of our brains. Stupid over active imagination!

"Nice," I say awkwardly, while she just starts to giggle hysterically.

"Evening girls, share the joke?" Puck appears, with Sam at his side.

I look at Genie. Genie looks at me.

We dissolve into a heap of laughter on the floor.

Puck just shrugs at Sam, and Sam shrugs back.

We probably look like absolute morons, but right now I don't care.

_10:07 p.m._

'_My heart is beating fast, but my mind is thinking clear' – _my current state, which is weird. I feel quite drunk, and I'm acting drunk, but my mind is only mildly hazy.

And as I'm lying on my stomach on the floor, the glass bottle's spinning around the circle. Sam is sitting directly opposite me, and i'm very much aware of how increasingly attractive he is. And it's annoying me. His laugh is really cute, and he has drunk sex hair, which is especially cute because he hasn't had any drunken sex (at least none that I'm aware of). He's just been drunk dancing (which is funny, may I say. It even had the privilege of being recorded. Not by me because I have a brick cell phone, but I nicked Sam's iPhone and filmed it). He and Finn and Rachel were dancing to 'I Know You Want Me' by Pitbull. I laughed so much I nearly fainted. Especially since Finn isn't the best dancer in the world. I mean, neither is Sam, but he manages to pull it off. You've gotta give him points for trying.

It's the sexy grin that's especially annoying. It makes me want to rip his shirt off right here and do the dirty, with not a care in the world that there are like, 12 other people in the room. Including my brother. That would be cringy, but I don't particularly care right now. That's my drunk side talking.

Speaking of Blaine, the bottle stops spinning, and point's right at him. He looks slightly dazed, but it was nothing compared to his dancing. It was worse than Finn's; and that's saying something. Soon enough his partner becomes Rachel and the two lean into the middle.

"Blaine warbler, I'm gonna rock your world," she giggles and Blaine doesn't objects as she presses her lips too his.

Kurt's eyes look like they're about to fall out of his head, and then he says rather hurriedly:

"I think we've seen enough!" and they split very hesitantly.

He is not gay. Not fully at least. 75% gay, and 25% straight. Yes. That'll do.

Quinn spins the bottle and it's pointing at me.

I look at Quinn.

Quinn looks at me.

"Go on then! Do the deed!" Genie laughs, drunkenly slouching against Puck and sipping from the red plastic cup she's actually spilling half the contents of everywhere.

Then there's a chorus of 'Do it! Do it!"

The guys are loudest, blatantly.

Don't get me wrong, Quinn is awesome and super pretty, but I'm not licking that side of the stamp. Am I? Well, whatever I'm thinking, the alcohol consumed part of me shrugs, and says; Why the hell not?

"Come on then Quinny; lay it on me," I say, leaning into the middle.

"You're crazy," she laughs, leaning forward aswell.

"Sensible is boring. Fuck it and forget about the consequences," I shrug, knowing that we'll both be blaming the alcohol in the morning. And with that, our lips lock.

"30 seconds! No less," Finn orders, as Quinn's lips move around mine. I'll admit; kissing a girl is not a bad experience. It's on my list of 'things to do before I'm 30'. Kissing a girl is nothing at all like kissing a guy. The contrast is weird. Quinn had soft, plump lips which are sweet from her strawberry flavoured lip gloss. She isn't rough, or in a hurry because we both know that it's not going anywhere apart from this circle. The kiss will be over in another few seconds or so, and when it comes to the morning we'll be a bit awkward, and laugh about it, and then basically forget it ever happened (if the guys will let us). She's slow, and sweet, and she even nibbles my bottom lip a little bit. I know it's been over 30 seconds, so I give her one last peck on the cheek, and we sit back in our original places.

It's silent, apart from 'Rock Star' by P!nk playing in the background. I glance at the circle. The guys (and Tina) are sitting there gobsmacked. Their mouths are on the floor. Puck and Sam have got definite hard on's.

"Damn," Artie widens his eyes, his mouth hanging open.

"That was so hot," Finn mumbles.

"I want a go," Britany wails.

"You wouldn't want poor Brit to feel left out would you?"

I look at Sam, who's comment just makes me, Quinn and Genie burst out laughing.

Guys are so predictable.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey Guys! Omg, okay, so I know it's been forever since I updated, but I do have an amazing explanation. My laptop broke, and then we had to send it back, and then I had rehearsals and exams which meant a shit load of revising and barely any time to do it in. So yeah. Super busy. But I have now bought you some lovely, drunk times. So enjoy and review :D

_Chapter 6._

_10:34 p.m._

Mike and Tina went home; Rachel, Mercedes and Kurt are off having a 'chat'.

That leaves Sam, Britany, Quinn, Puck, Genie, Artie, Blaine, Finn, and myself, lounging on the floor.

"So...what's next?" Finn asks.

"Seriously; what's next? Dude, what else comes next?" Puck scoffs at his 'best friend'.

"7 minutes in Heaven!" Genie cries excitedly, tapping her beer can to Puck's.

"You mean...we get to go to Heaven for 7 minutes? That sounds awesome but I don't wanna die yet," Britany slouches against Blaine.

He is definitely not a full on gay basher.

Then Quinn sighs, her mobile singing out that annoying tune that it does whenever her Mother calls.

"I have to take this guys, I'm sorry," she gets up, pressing accept.

"So, are we just doing this bog standard with a bottle?" Sam asks, watching Quinn leave the room.

I wonder if he still has feelings for her. I wouldn't be surprised. She's head cheerleader. She practically hands him the top of the proverbial pyramid on a platter, as if he wasn't basically there already. She's beautiful, and respectful, and nice, and decent. Well, that's the impression she's given me anyways. Sure, I've heard the rumours which fly around school, but I choose to ignore them. They're just rumours right? I haven't asked questions. Why would I? It's not any of my business, or anyone else's for that matter.

So then, why am I sat here, staring longingly at Sam Evans, and wondering...No, needing to know what he's feeling. About her: Quinn. Why am I jealous of the past they have, even though I know virtually nothing about it?

I guess it was the way he gazed after her as she slid past him just now. But why do I care? That's the question. And it's a stupid question, that I already know the answer too:

I fancy Sam Evans.

Which is, quite frankly, something I did not plan on doing, and something which needs to be nipped in the bud. Soon.

"No! We should do the whole '21' counting thing," Genie suggests, waving her hands around.

"Sounds like a good idea," Puck nods, and so does Sam.

"Why 21? Why not just 20? Why does everything have to be so complicated?" Britany whines, sipping her vodka through a straw, still slumped against Blaine.

Sometimes I do wonder about the girl. Still, she is my friend, even if she's the dimmest person I know. It's not her fault. She's sweet really.

"Okay, I'll start," Genie counts up to 7, allowing the circle to count its way up, leaving Finn with 21.

"I can see the lights already..." Britany murmurs, closing her eyes and tilting her head towards the ceiling.

"That's a light bulb, baby," Artie corrects his girlfriend, even though he's wearing his glasses upside down.

As we count round again, his partner becomes...

"Puck. M'man!" I laugh, my words slurring slightly.

"There aren't enough girls," Puck groans.

"Fuck it. Sorry baby, I'm going in," Genie gets up, as if she just doesn't care. And she probably doesn't.

Finn and Puck shrug at each other, but seeing as Finn looks a lot happier with this Genie follows him into the next room.

I observe the room as Blaine counts the minutes.

Rachel is asleep (or passed out) against Kurt, who is staring longingly at Blaine, who has Britany slumped against his chest. Artie is chatting to Sam, Puck is laid on the floor looking as if he quite frankly doesn't give a shit about anything. Quinn is nowhere to be seen, most probably being screamed at down the phone by her mother. Blaine is busily counting and I can imagine the wrath I would get if he lost his time.

I make my way over, for the second time tonight, to my iPod. There is still half a playlist left.

I glance back at the boys.

I've never seen Blaine so...I can't even think.

The only words which spring to mind are 'totally hammered' or 'paralytic'. Artie wheels over to me.

"You okay?" I ask, leaning my arms on his legs.

"I'm fly baby gee. How're you holding up?"

"Same old," I lie, "But seriously, your girlfriend is cuddled up with a guy who isn't you, and you're 'fly'?"

"Sure?" he shrugs, "They're drunk," `

"Who isn't?" I glance over at the pair and accidentally catch Sam's eye. I look away sharp-ish.

"What's going on with you and the Beibster?"

"Nothing. He's all stereotypical and assoholic and stuff," I repeat for about the fifth time this week, scrunching my eyes up.

"Sam? Stereotypical?" Artie looks at me as if he couldn't think of anything more absurd.

"Artie, I don't think you should drink anymore. The alcohol goes straight to your brain and makes you deranged. Sam Evans is egotistical, and is obsessed by his hair and popularity status," I point out.

"He's not!"

"Is,"

He shrugged, "I tried,"

Blaine shouts something which sounds like "Get out of the Tardis!" so I assume he means that 7 minutes is up.

Genie and Finn emerge, looking slightly flushed. We all make our way back to the circle.

"Oh, hey baby," Genie sits on Puck's lap and they begin to make out.

"Try not to swallow each other," I roll my eyes, turning away from their display.

"Let's go again," Artie says hastily, and Finn starts the counting.

Sam is landed with 21 this time and then Quinn emerges.

"Sorry guys, I'm going to have to bail," she makes a face, grabbing her coat from the armchair.

"Your Mom's mad?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"How'd you guess," she sighs, pulling her arms through the sleeves.

"Are you okay to drive?"

"No, but I'll be fine," she shrugs.

I think about all the deaths and injuries from drink driving. It's not a good idea. I'd be devastated if Quinn got herself in hospital. She's the closest thing I've got to a best friend, and Genie is definitely stepping up the rung on the friendship ladder.

Switching to a different track of thought, I can't believe that Santana never turned up. I know that she's fierce and proud and all but I thought she would've at least given it a fair go at hating every second and being here to prove it. It's because she knows she would've enjoyed it, and that would shake her core. I don't think that she's really like that. I don't believe it's possible to be such a bitch. She's doing it to protect herself. The question is; from what?

"Hold that thought," I grab Quinn's arm and take my mobile out of my pocket.

"What're you doing?" she asks, but I push a finger to her lips.

The phone rings off.

"What do you want Barbie?"

"Nice to speak to you too, Satan. I called to ask a favour,"

"Why would I help you?"

"Because your friend Quinn, remember her?"

"Vaguely,"

"Charming," I roll my eyes at the response.

"As always,"

"Whatever. She needs a ride home. She's been drinking and she's okay now but she's still over the limit and you know how her Mom gets, so-"

"Oh boo-freaking-hoo. She'll be fine," the girl on the end of the phone interrupts me.

"Santana, I'm not asking as a way to frustrate you. Believe me, I have other things on my mind," I let my eyes flicker over to Sam, who's watching me intently, "but your friend needs a favour and everyone here has been drinking,"

"Surely your wonderful, purer than gold hostess-"

"Berry is passed out on Porcelain's chest," I picked up Kurt's nickname from Coach Sylvester.

"Ha, make sure you snap that," she chuckles, then composes herself, and huffs, "Fine, I'll do it. Not for you because I hate you and I still do. Be there in 5," she hangs up.

I turn to Quinn. "Santana's gonna give you a lift,"

"Oh good. That'll be a ride to remember. You realise she's probably planning my death as we speak right?"

"Don't be stupid Quinn. She might very well be the ultimate B-F-H, but she's not going to kill you,"

"B-F-H?" she questions.

"Bitch from hell," I clarify, then tuck my phone back into my pocket and turn to the awaiting circle.

"I'm gonna wait outside with Quinn. You guys can carry on," then I take Quinn's hand and head out to the front of the house.

"You didn't have to do that. You should've stayed and done the game,"

'No thanks, I don't particularly want to sit and count while Sam goes into that room with a girl who isn't me' I think, but don't say.

"It's all good," I shrug, "You're my friend Quinn. I don't want something to happen to you if I could've prevented it," I explain, and smile.

"Well, thanks for caring," she smiles back, all tearily.

"It's fine," I draw her into a hug.

Her breath tickles my neck as she pulls away. I watch her eyes fall to my lips, and my breathing hitches in my throat as she leans in a little bit. Then I hear a car on the gravel, and we both pull away.

"I'll see you Monday," I say awkwardly.

"Yeah. See you then," she replies quickly, getting into Santana's silver Porsche.

I watch them reverse out of the drive, then slump against the wall, wondering what in the hell just happened. What almost happened. Had Quinn seriously just gone in to kiss me? Had I very almost let her do that?

'It's the alcohol' I tell myself firmly. I take in a lungful of air and return to the party. Everyone is still lolling around in a circle. Surely they've counted to 21 by now?

"Have we abandoned the game?" I question, frowning and putting my hands into my back pockets.

"No," Finn replies.

"Sam wouldn't let us continue until you were back," Artie shoots me that 'I told you so' grin.

Sam just tries to look very businesslike, and says "It's unfair to carry on the game with one of our party missing,"

"Fine," I sit down and start off with 1.

We go round the circle until it gets to Artie, who's sitting next to me and he counts all the way to 20, so I have no other choice but to say '21' and then ask "Isn't there a rule against that or something?"

"No! So stop stalling and go make out with Beiber," Genie shouts at me, which is kind of scary. So I down a shot, and let Sam pull me to my feet.

He leans against the wall outside the 'Heaven' room. I cross my arms and the song Hot Mess comes on. How fucking convenient.

"Fancy going to Heaven with me then?" he bites his lip, which is annoying because he looks incredibly sexy when he does that. I control myself.

"Sam. I would rather poke my eyes out," I reply, making my voice sound pleasant.

Of course I'm lying, but he can't know that.

"Mmm, but they're such pretty eyes," he leans right forward, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a smile.

My insides buckle. I giggle. It's all I can do to stop myself from collapsing.

"Fine. 7 minutes, Evans. That's all you're getting," I give in, even though I know that once I get in there I'll be wanting a lot more than 7 minutes.

He grins triumphantly, and as I turn he puts his hands on my hips, leading me through the doorway.

I sit on the sofa as he shuts the door.

"You look really pretty tonight," he smiles, standing in front of me.

"And you look very handsome, my good sir. Loving the shirt," I giggle.

"So...uh, I've kind of wanted to do this since I met you," he scratches the back of his head, then shoves both hands in his pockets.

He looks all cute and nervous. It's official: he hides behind a gigantic ego which isn't even his.

It's time to take the reins.

"So, are you going to stop being a jerk now?"

"No,"

"That's not the answer I wanted," I pout.

"Then I'm going to have to teach you how to compromise,"

"Ooh, that's a big word Sam," I tease.

He places both hands on the sofa either side of my head, where I'm leaning against the pillows.

"I'm pretty but I ain't dumb Annie. At least, not about you,"

I look up at him through my eyelashes as the song in the background sings: "Well you're a hot mess and I'm falling for you,"

Lust washes through me. I grab his collar and pull that big mouth onto mine.

It makes fireworks go off in my head and I feel all shaky. His mouth prises mine open, and his tongue traces my lower lip which makes my whole body tingle. He tastes of Beer and Vodka; a powerful mix of bitter and strong which messes with my head.

He grabs my waist, sitting down and pulling me on top of him at the same time while I get deeper into the kiss.

'This is a bad idea Annie, this is a very bad idea' I'm thinking to myself the whole time that he's gently pushing me down until I'm laying on the sofa, with his body lightly hovering over mine. Yet somehow I can't find my willpower anywhere! I can't find it in me to stop, even when he grips my thigh, and wraps it around his hip.

It carries on for a short time until we're just one hot, tangled mess on the couch, and Genie decides to open the door. No warning, just flings it right open, letting everyone and their cell phones get a full view of us. They all fall about laughing, and close the door again. Sam rolls off me neatly, readjusting his shirt and I sort out my hair.

Then there's the awkward silence where he looks at me with:

'So...am I getting into your pants or what?' stamped all over his face, and I just look back with: 'Should that even have happened?' on mine.

He steps forward, taking both my hands. "What're you thinking?" he asks softly.

I sigh, staring at our hands and thinking about how right they look and feel together. But I don't tell him that. "I'm thinking...that probably shouldn't have happened," I glance up, studying his face.

"But it did,"

"Yeah, I know, I was there too. But what I'm saying is we probably shouldn't have done that,"

"Yeah, but we did," he looks at me evenly. And he's right. Maybe it shouldn't have happened, and maybe we shouldn't have done it, but none the less, it did happen and we did do it and there's nothing either one of us can do to change that.

"You're right. I'm sorry Sam, I'm not being fair to you at all. In fact I'm-"

"I liked it,"

I look at him, confused.

"The kissing. I liked it," he says sheepishly.

"Me too," I admit, "But let's just take it slow, okay?" I say, instantly not knowing whether or not I'm going to regret it.

"Slow? I went out with Quinn and you wanna talk about slow? Come on woman, give me something to work with," his smile turns to a full grin as he ducks to my height.

He has a point; Quinn is Queen of slow ever since she got pregnant. I know that much. But as I pointed out before; I don't tend to ask Quinn a lot of questions about that stuff. It's obviously personal and if she wants me to know then she'll come and talk to me about it. However, thinking about Quinn makes me feel uneasy in a really weird way, so I put Sam's hands in my back pockets and press up against him. He pulls me closer, until our bodies are all but melded together, as our lips move fervently around each others.

Then he does just about the cutest thing ever, and rubs his nose against mine, only the once before we head back out the door. I find myself absolutely buzzing and my mind going: 'OMG! Cuteness Overload!' and I want to scream and jump up and down in the good way. The way you do when you find out that you're going to Disney Land.

We must've been in there at least 10 minutes, and so we're greeted by the immature 'Whey!' of everyone except Kurt and Rachel, although Kurt winks at me. Rachel is still passed out, which is good. She needs to sleep off the 5 shots of Vodka she tried to do all in one go.

"Well, it looks like Annie got 7 minutes of Sam's heaven," Artie decides to say, winking around.

"He wasn't that good," I shrug, then wink at Sam, who chuckles and rubs the back of his head.

"What happened in there?" Genie crowds me into the corner, "Did you...do the dirty?" she winks. (There seems to be an awful lot of winking going on.)

"No! Jeez, I'm not a ho!" I exclaim, and Genie coughs, thinking she's being funny. Then she actually has a coughing fit and I have to hit her on the back several times.

"Besides," I say after she's recovered, "I do not kiss and tell,"

"Then let's get wasted,"

I agree, kicking my shoes off, and soon things begin to blur.

A three way kiss with Britany and Sam (which is actually quite fun); grinding on the dance floor with Sam to Miami2Ibiza; another three way with Puck and Genie; screaming along to Benny and the Jets with Mercedes; being tackled by Puck, Sam and Finn; racing around with a topless Britany on my back pretending to be a fire engine. At one point Rachel woke up and came and slow danced with me too Barbra Streisand which I'm pretty sure someone videoed. Having a dance off with Genie on Just Dance 2; falling on top of Finn during the first 5 minutes of Twister; Ghosts; Bed sheets. Ghost turning out to be Sam wrapped in a bed sheet. Singing You're So Vain with my brother (I say singing, I mean I'm shouting 'You're so vain' in his face while the tune plays completely out of time with me); reciting a scene from Monsters Inc. to Kurt; Blaine started to talk about Harry and his Pottery; I decide I'm going to start calling Finn 'Finny bear' and Sam 'Ken'.

I'm sitting against Sam, his legs either side of me.

"You like me," he smiles.

"Do not!" I deny.

"Who're you trying to convince princess? Me or yourself?" he rubs my arm.

"Ken Beiber is a beautiful 12 year old, okay?" I shout back in despair.

"Annie, Annie, Annie!" Brit then sits on me and starts kissing me.

I see Puck picking Genie up (who is in very skimpy underwear. I'm not kidding; she may as well be wearing dental floss) and wrapping her legs around him, still managing to keep his face attached to hers the whole time.

Blaine then picks Britany up and kisses her then sits on Artie's lap and dozes right off.

Britany just stands there, looking around, her face giving away that she's totally spaced.

"Come on," Sam gets up, taking my hand and leading me upstairs.

Then there's just me, Sam, and a whole load of purple sheets...

Hope You Enjoyed it! Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

Wassup readers? So I know its been a while, and I'm sorry about that, but here is chapter 7.

I just want to shout out to MyNameIsProngs and greeneyedbaby (: thanks you guys! If you haven't read their Fics, you should. They're amazing.

Anyways, I am not bald, gay or awesome, and I therefore don't own glee. I hope you enjoy this chapter (:

Chapter 7

"Sing, sing, sing!" everyone is cheering me for an encore.

I open my mouth, and suddenly everyone is singing Barbra Streisand. Rachel is at the front with not two, but three eyebrows. One above her nose, one on her eyelid, and one... on her chin.

And that's when 100 McKinley students decide to give me a 10 o'clock slushy facial.

I sit up sharp, realising with a sigh of relief that it was only a dream. Then I have to slump back down due to the throbbing pain in my head. I sit up again slowly, but have to clamp a hand over my mouth and crawl to the bathroom. However, Blaine has already beaten me to it; he's lying in the bathtub fully clothed with a flannel over his face.

After delightfully throwing up twice into the toilet, I moan:

"Jeez, what did they give me last night?"

"I don't know," is the muffled groan that I get in response, "I don't remember an awful lot of it myself,"

I heave a few more times, and then the bathroom door opens.

Janie is standing there, her face like stone.

I inwardly sigh, bracing myself.

"I can't believe it!" Oh here we go... "I expected better of you two! After the long speech you gave us last night about not being typical teenagers I'm extremely disappointed. You're not even aloud to be drinking at your age! I should've known better. I've heard all about these out-of-control teen parties. Your father and I trusted both of you. A little alcohol is fine, but look at the state of you both! Absolute mess! You're lucky your father had to leave early because he's absolutely furious. I'm going out, but you'll need to go and get your car. Thank God you had enough sense to not get in that car and drive-"

"Then how did I get home?" I frown, my mind completely blanked.

"One of your so called Glee Club friends," she says the words with revulsion.

"There are about 12-"

"A tall blonde boy with a big mouth,"

Sam.

Oh dear Lord.

My Father has seen Sam and his big mouth.

I can't help but smile. I can just imagine Sam standing on the doorstep, holding me up, and trying to explain to my parents: "Yeah, she's totally wrecked, but this isn't what it looks like,"

I'm smiling, until the memories suddenly decide to come back to me in a rush. Oh my Jeez. Oh...

The jolt in my stomach makes me sick again. Me, Sam, and purple bed sheets...

_Flashback. _

_Rachel Berry's house party. _

_11:05 p.m._

"_Sam! Sammy, stop it!" I giggle hysterically, grabbing at the hands which are sliding all over me. _

"_Make me. Wait; those are not my hands," I hear Sam's voice from somewhere which is not next to me._

_I get out of the tangle of bed sheets (which is not as easy as it sounds, especially when you've been on the drink) and see Genie. _

_Then Puck falls on top of her, just as I see Sam appear next to me from underneath the sheets. And then it's like we're not even there anymore. _

"_Jeez Puckerman, you're gonna do some __serious__ damage with that thing," Genie slurs, looking right down at Puck's boxers. Then __I__ can't help but look, and seeing his hard on, which is __huge__, by the way. _

"_Damn straight I am," Puck grins, tossing her across the bed like a rag doll. She finds this highly amusing and just giggles as he lays himself on top of her, and pushing his lips onto hers as she wraps her legs around him. _

_I look at Sam. I look at Sam's jeans. There is indeed a __massive__ bulge in them. His jaw is wide open, which makes his mouth look even bigger, and being a tiny bit tipsy I find this extremely comical. I glance back at the raunchy couple who are just about dry humping on the bed. I wonder if I should drop a hint to Genie that she is about to be used in several different ways which may possibly be illegal. But I also know that if I get in the way of Puck attempting to break her in half (which she'll enjoy no doubt) there will be hell to pay. And I would die._

_So I choose life, and grab Sam's hand and pull him out onto the hallway. Unfortunately, Rachel's walls are quite thin, meaning you don't need a glass to hear what's going happening on the other side. Therefore I can quite clearly hear Puck banging Genie's brains out. There's a perfectly good bed, why use a wall? _

_I just collapse against Sam in a fit of giggles, and he keeps pressing a his finger to my lips and trying to tell me to 'Shh!' in between hysteria, and saying 'they're making love and we don't want to put them off! He might shoot his load a bit too quickly if we make too much noise!' which is absurd because the walls are still vibrating from the music downstairs. I also nearly pee myself at the fact that Sam said 'shoot his load'. I need to teach him some less hilarious sexual terms. Then I get images of having sex with someone (which to my disappointment isn't Sam) and him shouting 'I'm gonna shoot my load!' __and then me being shot backwards at immense speed._

_And that's when the moans begin, bringing on another round of drunken giggles. I don't think she is aware of her surroundings. I mean...having sex in someone else's house? Especially Rachel Berry's house. It's all innocent and squeaky clean, just like her. And now Puck and Genie have come in and de-innocentized it. On her bed. _

_Jeez. Either she too drunk to realise or she solely doesn't care._

_Eventually Genie's orgies get quieter and Sam gazes at me. I gaze back. He pushes me up against the wall, going down to my eyelevel to kiss me for a few seconds, before taking both of my wrists and pinning them on the wall above my head. He's moving closer the whole way, letting go of my hands and sliding his own down my back, tracing my waist and hips. He drops his head, and begins kissing and nipping at my neck, which I'll admit does feel insanely nice. My lips are tingling and I even let myself breathe heavy in sync with him, and drop a few low notes. I let my hands run through his hair and over his shoulders, gliding down the muscles in his back. I'm pulling him by his front belt loops to bring him closer when I feel the friction of his jeans rubbing against my hip. With him attached to my neck I back into the door next to me, fumble with the door handle, and finally lead him into what's presumably a guest room. All I know is that it's delightfully Genie and Puck free, and there's a bed. We fall into a heap onto the mattress while I undo a few buttons on his shirt. _

Present.

12:57 p.m.

That's all I remember. Why is that all I remember? Oh God, I did not give Sam what he wanted did I? I didn't give him exactly what I said I wouldn't?

"You didn't happen to hear me and Sam having sex upstairs at all did you?" I question, out loud, hoping that someone would be able to give me an answer. That answer would preferably be along the lines of: 'No, you're not Fliss anymore! He tried to get into your pants and you said no like the responsible, lovely Annie that you are'.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I only remember asking Sam if he conditioned his gorgeous golden locks," Blaine mumbles. So basically he might as well not have said anything.

"I hope not. Get yourselves cleaned up. Don't go out. I'll be back at 6," Janie, who I forgot was there, storms out, slamming the door and making my head pound.

"Screw her. I'm going to get the car. Right after-" then I throw up again.

Genie's p.o.v

I wake up and look at my alarm clock. I've got a banging headache and the numbers are blurred. What the freaking hell in fat Mary's name happened last night? All I remember is a lot of 'pucking' and a hell of a lot more alcohol. I guess that's my giving up drink plan down the toilet…along with some puke.

My eyes finally focus; 1:37 p.m. Ugh. I reach for my phone, which has a hurtful no messages. I _never_ have no messages. According to Annie I'm a phone addict, which by the way, is _so_ not true. Did I text anyone last night? No. Exactly. What would she know anyways? I've only known her, like, a couple of days – bitch. Okay I'm joking; she's actually pretty fly for the new kid. To be honest, I think we'll end up being best friends. She's my kind of bean: down to earth (most of the time), not afraid to laugh at herself, takes charge with the boys, and her step-brother is God damn smoking. Gay or not, I would. Many times. Hard.

However, I don't need a smokin' hot gay step-brother, because I have the Puckster. I swear everyone did the dirt last night. Except probably Rachel. The sad virgin was passed out most of the night, light weight. I really can't stand that girl. I mean, it's not her fault, and it's out of habit and what not, but she just opens her mouth at all the wrong times. I swear she said I was an 'attention seeking diva' last night. Yes me; a freaking Diva. Just No. But that could be my hangover talking. I don't know which is my left and right at the minute. I can't move too much either, in fear of upsetting the burger muncher (or stomach as normal geeks tend to call it), so I've settled for the bath, which I am laying in. I can think of more comfortable places, but it's right next to the toilet, and my phone is in reaching distance. I might give Annie a call. Maybe she could enlighten me on last night's events. Then again maybe not, she didn't seem very sober to me.

And typically, the girl takes forever to pick up that brick of a cell phone…

"Hello?" she groans. I'm guessing she won't be able to enlighten me on last night's occurences…

"Hello, I'm calling from Pornhub," I joke, in a very excited voice. This should be fun.

"What? I don't-"

"I have amazing news! We traced some of the video's back to an Annie Fredricks,"

"How the hell did you hear about that? Who is this?" she sounds panicky.

"You won employee of the month on PornHub! Someone's been reading the Slag Bible,"

"Hi Genie…" she sighs, not seeing the funny side of my clearly hiarious antics.

"S'up sugartits? So, you and Sammy boy, eh?" I wink. To myself. Why? She can't see me, and I can't see myself either. I'm a douche sometimes.

This seems to get her attention though. I don't blame her. He is one hot tomalie.

"I don't know!" is the moan I get back.

"Oh, her and Sam got it on!" I hear Blaine's voice in the background.

"I hate you," she says bluntly to her brother.

"I don't hate you Blaine, I love you!" I shout down the phone.

There's a lot of phone noise which hurts my brain, and then Blaine is on the other end saying in his campest voice ever: "Oh stop it, you're just saying that; Stop!" and I just about piss myself, which hurts my stomach.

Then Annie manages to get her cell back.

"I remember up until your orgasms were giving Sam the boner of his life, and then it all got a bit hot and heavy in the guest room. But I don't remember anything after that! It's like someone has cut my memory with scissors or something. I guess I'll just have to talk to him on Monday," she sighs, truly concerned by this whole sexual fandango.

"You worry too much,"

"I know but I can't help it! What if I let that gorgeous hunky piece of junk enter Aladin's cave without giving the password! I will-"

"Okay, first of all that would never happen because the Lion thing would be real pissed off, and then Sam would die," I interrupt. I haven't watched Aladin in years. Mostly because I got angry that the Genie was ugly, and my name was Genie, and then I yelled at my parents.

"The point I'm trying to make is that I will have given him the thing that I promised him I wouldn't!"

"And you being deflowered by that gorgeous hunky piece of junk would be a bad thing _how_ exactly?" I kick my legs over the side of the bath, not really listening to what I'm saying, and then suddenly my brain kicks in and mentally digests what's being said.

"Wait," I interrupt her explantion, something about missing the point, "You're a _virgin_?"

"Uhh…yes,"

"Pft," I snort, "Sucks for you,"

"Wait so…Puck…last night wasn't-"

"My first? Hell no. Don't seem so shocked," I laugh at the tone in her voice. I'm a cheerio. I didn't even wait until I was 16. Screw that, I went right on in there. I think his name was Cade or something. He was on the Football team, and a senior. We didn't talk too much, but his body could slice diamonds and his face wasn't too bad to look at either. It wasn't that great. He didn't shower my bed with rose petals or anything. We'd just won the Final and decided to celebrate behind the bleachers.

"But- but you're all sweet and shy and innocent and stuff," she sounded like someone had just ran over her cat, or she'd just realised that the fat guy in the red suit kissing her Mom was not Santa.

"It's a face Annie. And it's how you survive high school. So you better design one sharp, slap it on, and never let anyone take it off,"

Jeez. I just amazed myself with those words of wisdom. Maybe I drink excessivly more often…

Annie's p.o.v

2:00 p.m.

After the intriguing conversation with Genie I got cleaned up, had a shower, and took some aspirin for the headache. Not sure if I was supposed to do that but what the hell?

I get dressed in shorts, a floaty coral top, grab my sunglasses, and head out. I have to walk to Rachel's, my head still kind of spinning, but I'm fine. It is Sunday right...?

2:25 p.m.

There are no more additions to Rachel's driveway, so I'm guessing that her Dad's aren't back yet, and some people must've been too drunk to drive so they stayed over.

I can't just get in the car and drive off. My keys will be on the side, with my bag and iPod.

I knock on the front door and it swings open.

"Rachel?"

No reply. I don't like the look of this...

What if they're all dead? Savagely mutated and I'm the one to find them? Oh, what if-

"Hell no. Get your ass over here,"

"Mercedes, please. I just need to see if she's breathing,"

I let out a massive sigh of relief, and walk towards the voices of Kurt and Mercedes.

They're both sitting on the bigger sofa, with a laptop in front of them.

Britany is on the floor; modestly covered up by someone's scarf. She's snoring lightly. Rachel is sprawled across the other sofa.

"Hey," I greet them awkwardly.

"Hey," they both say.

Kurt looks at me as I take in the party scene again.

"Artie is asleep on the kitchen table. I found Puck naked on Rachel's bed this morning and kicked him out," he explains, and I vaguely remember Puck and Genie's sexcapades.

"Ooh, Annie, you need to see this," Mercedes erupts into laughter.

Oh dear Lord.

"What? What is it?" I ask consciously.

Kurt ushers me over to squeeze in between him and Mercedes. They're on Facebook, and currently on an album called 'Last Friday Night', despite it being on a Saturday.  
>"As in...The song by Katy Perry?"<p>

"Mmhm, there's a picture for every line in the song," Kurt points to the screen.

'There's a stranger in my bed' a picture of a shocked Kurt and a rather confused Blaine in one of the beds. I laugh and nudge him.

'There's a pounding in my head' a picture of Finn with his head in his hands.

We go through a few more until it gets to the _really_ embarrassing ones.

'Yeah we danced on table tops' me, Genie, and Britany in our underwear on Rachel's coffee table.

'And we took to many shots' Britney, Genie, Puck, Sam, Rachel, Finn, Mercedes and I downing vodka shots.

'I think we kissed but I forgot' there's a picture of Sam and I on the sofa making out during '7 minutes in Heaven'. Even though it was more like 10.

"Oh Jeez," I rub my eyes, "Now everyone's going to know," Not something I intended to happen.

"That's not all they'll know," Mercedes gets up a picture of Me, Sam and Brit doing a three-way kiss.

"Who was takingall of these?" I question, mortified that my drunken Saturday night is all over Facebook.

"They're just from people's phones and camera's," Kurt shrugs it off and I look at him suspiciously.

"I don't remember anyone with a camera," I mumble into Kurt's shoulder.

Then Rachel pipes up; "I don't remember _anything_,"

"I'm hardly surprised. Completely wasted half the night and passed out the other doesn't do much for one's memory," I point out.

"Hey Berry, you wanna know what you did last night?" Mercedes seems to be full of the giggles today.

Rachel is up like a shot and then is quite literally sitting on top of me. I peer over her shoulder and watch the screen, which is showing a video of our spin the bottle game. I can tell that Mercedes had filmed it from the position the film is in. There's Rachel and Blaine's kiss. Jeez. I didn't see it from that angle!

"You've un-gayed him!" my jaw hangs agape.

"Don't be silly," Kurt laughs a little uneasily, "You can't just 'un-gay' someone,"

"But can you make someone gay?" Mercedes asks, nodding towards the screen.

It's mine and Quinn's kiss. Watching gives me the weirdest feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Guys," I sigh, "I'm not a lesbian," at least...I don't think so.

"Okay, but...bi-curious?"

"_Why_ would you think that?" I demand.

"You have the hottest, most popular Beiberlicious Quarter-Back obviously wrapped around your little finger. He's all over you like ants on candy and you're pushing him away! You're a single cheerio, and you could be on top, and you're not doing anything about it. It just doesn't make sense," Mercedes shakes her head.

"Wow," I stare at my shoes, feeling my eyes welling up. I can't even finish the sentence. What I want to say is: 'wow, what a load of judgemental assholes you all are' but I can't bring myself to do it.

Instead, I get up, grabbing my things off the side and barely stop to say "See you at school" before getting out as fast as possible.

Glee; somewhere you can go for a sense of family; respect; no judgement. Just friendship, acceptance, and the music. A team. And that was working out fine; but there's always a fucking crack in the pavement. Hell, I don't need Glee. I'm a Cheerio for crying out loud! But with a sigh I realise that I do need Glee. I just don't get them. Either way I go, I'll be in the wrong: Don't get with Sam; I'm blatantly a lesbian. Get with Sam and quit Glee; become the girl I left behind. And I can't do that again. Fliss; the slut, the bitch, the gossip, the terrible friend and daughter. Yeah, the list goes on. Would you want a reputation like that? I need to find the balance! I can never find the God damn balance.

I do need Glee. It's basically the only thing keeping me sane. It mostly accepts me for who I am. It doesn't matter where I'm from, or where I'm at. How I dress. We all have the same thing in common; we all love music. 'We're all misfits...' I think, blinking back the tears.

I shouldn't be a misfit, I should be normal. That's why I moved, to try and live a normal life. But none of my life was ever normal. I was never anything more than damaged – a misfit. And I hate one person above all the rest for doing that to me: Jake. He did this. He made me like this, and getting a new zip code was never going to change that. I try and blink away the tears, desperate for some reassurance. But I never told anyone, and so there was never anyone to talk it through with. Then again, I'm pretty sure I didn't tell people for a reason. Why would anyone want to know that? So that left me, myself and I to cope with it all by ourselves. I laugh bitterly. Cope? Did I ever do that? Probably not.

And what about this whole Quinn thing? Jeez, where does that leave me? Suddenly, I'm not entirely sure I want to know...

I let the tears flow down my cheeks as I drive along. I don't want to go home. Tear stains = questions. Questions = giving answers which I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable giving yet. I mean, where are you supposed to go to talk about it? I know that people say 'Go and talk to your parents!', and your parents say 'You can always talk to us about anything!' but that's not really true, is it? I mean, for one, can you imagine _that_ conversation?

"Oh hey Dad, so I'm really worried because I think I might be a lesbian. See, it all started on Saturday when I got drunk at Rachel's house party and we played spin the bottle and I had to kiss Quinn and I actually quite enjoyed it. Then we almost kissed and it was really awkward and then I got really drunk and I think I might've hooked up with Sam but I don't remember. So, what's your advice on that particular subject?"

I can hardly see him saying "Oh yeah, back in my day something exactly like that happened to me!"

Then there's Blaine, who's always so lovely and open-minded about everything. But somehow it wouldn't feel right going and talking to him about it. I don't think he was ever confused. I think he just knew. Or possibly not, as of the whole Rachel Berry fandango. So he's still befuddled, and doesn't need my sexually confused problems on top of that.

I consider going to Quinn's, but then I remember what brought me to this in the first place, and figure that Quinn's is probably not the best idea. I would go to Genie's, but I haven't a clue where she lives. Plus she'd probably try and find the answer via her mobile (she's a phone addict). Then again, she's also one of those people who I feel I've known forever, which I'm grateful for.

That's when the idea hit's me.

I can't believe I didn't think of him before!

_2:45 p.m._

Standing on Puck's 'Welcome' mat. Well, it's in Jewish, so it could be saying _'Piss off and leave us alone'_ , but from what I know about Welcome mat's, they do tend to say Welcome, and therefore I knock

A woman in her 40's opens the door. She looks very Jewish. And very angry. But no surprises there; her son is the infamous Noah Puckerman. Despite this she ushers me in and smiles.

"Are you after my son?"_ Jeez, I wonder how many times she's asked __that__ question. _

"Yes please. I just need a word with him," I tell her politely.

_. I wonder how many of the girls who have turned up on 's doorstep used that as their excuse. I wonder how many of them kindly showed themselves to his room, and then had sex with him. My guess is probably most of them. ._

"Okay dear," she smiles at me again, patting my shoulder, and then she turns in the direction of the stairs, and shouts "NOAH!" and explosions go off in my head.

We wait in silence for a minute and then barely hear Puck's voice when he answers: "What?" in a grumpy and tired voice. I'm not surprised.

"You have a lady friend on her way up!"

I slip out of my pumps, and start up the stairway I don't want Puck to think his Mom was referring to Genie, and then me to go in and find him laying there naked or anything. Not only would that be sensationally awkward, but I've seen and heard quite enough Puckledrew (Puck and Andrews, Genie and Puck's last names together) action for, well, ever, thanks very much.

I find Puck's room easily because on the door it has 'Welcome to Noah's Ark' in baby blocks. Cute or what?

I knock, and wait for him to tell me to come in, then step around the door cautiously. I have to say that I'm expecting a mess of boxers and last week's washing to be strewn all over the floor and a thousand cut outs of naked models plastered across his walls, but to my surprise it's _really_ neat. He has a big double bed, with blue sheets which look like bubble wrap, and a television fixed to the wall, complete with x-box and ps3.

"That has to be the coolest bed spread I've ever seen in my entire life," I say, startling him because he's glued to the basketball.

He smiles, patting the space next to him. When I sit down, I admit that a little part of me dies when it doesn't pop.

"I got it when I was 9. I thought it was proper bubble wrap. Mom said I looked like a kicked puppy when I found out it didn't pop,"

I laugh. "You're such a dork,"

"Sorry, I'm a dork? Have you not met Sam Evans? The dude speaks the blue language," Puck refers to Avatar, raising an eyebrow.

"Wow, lame," but secretly I think that it's _awesome_.

"Anyway, what summons you to my boudoir? I'm guessing it has something to do with these," he rubs my cheeks where the tears have fallen.

I nearly reach up to wipe my cheeks, but what's the point? I just let out a massive breath and fall backwards onto the pillows.

"I'm hurt. And very confused,"

"Confused sex, I like it," he grins down at me.

"Not why I'm here Puck. In fact, I feel like I've basically slept with you after what I saw and heard last night. That feeling of accomplishment is enough to not really have too,"

He pouts, disappointed, not phased in the slightest that I know of his sexual antics. Then again, this is Noah-whore-till-I-die Puckerman. I'm sure many people know of his sexual antics.

"Okay, so if not for confused sex, why are you here?"

As I'm about to reply his eyes go wide and he says: "Don't say to talk,"

I scowl. "I _am_ here to talk as a matter of fact. And you're going to listen until your ears _bleed_ if necessary, because that's _just_ the sort of person you are,"

"No, Annie. Surely Quinn or Kurt, or your brother – hell, I'll bet even Finessa has a better chance of helping you than I do. I'm an asshole, remember?"

"_Yes, _you are an asshole. But you're going to drop the badass stage boy act and help your friend. Right now she needs comfort,"

He seems to respond to this, and lies next to me, but not before childishly saying: "Comfort sex,"

Then he sighs and demands: "Spill it,"

"My head hurts," I cover my face.

"Yes Annie, that's called a hangover. I'm not surprised. You've seen the pictures right? And those video's," he's wearing that grin which means he's thinking dirty and I'm ready to put money on saying that he's seen the video's more than once.

"Which brings me to my next point..." I breathe in and out, then carry on whilst staring at Puck's bobbly ceiling, "All of that stuff...those pictures and videos. The _kissing_; that's semi normal for a drunken teenager right? I can blame it on the alcohol?" I ask, trying to keep the anxiousness out of my voice.

"Considering you were totally hammered, and started asking me if you could braid my Mohawk then yes, I would say you could blame it the alcohol," he smirks.

"Okay, and another thing: Do you think it's weird that I haven't fallen at Sam's feet like everyone else?" I turn my head to study his response.

"Well, first of all; you know him on like, a personal level, and also in the – 'you gave me a massive hicky' way, so really it all depends on how you find him as a person. Most of the girls..." blah, blah, don't know him, just what he looks like, blah, I zone out. A hicky? I have a massive hicky? How do I not know this?

"Puck, Puck, stop," I interrupt Puck's speech which is making him sound increasing like Wise Woman of the Forest, "Hold up there, _where_ do I have a massive hicky?"

He laughs, gets off the bed, dragging me through his bathroom door so as I'm standing in front of his mirror, and pulling my hair back from my neck.

_Oh dear Lord. _

"Shit! Sam!" I lean forward and inspect the pink/purple bruise on the side of my neck in Puck's bathroom mirror. "Are they supposed to be that big?"

"Have you seen the size of his mouth?"

"Fair point. But how the hell am I expected to hide that?"

"You don't. You wear your hicky loud and proud to say 'I got some this weekend and it was good'," he shrugs, leaving me staring.

Oh, Sam.

I swear to God, that boy is Steven Tyler and Mick Jagger's gay love child. Actually that's mean, because Sam is _wayyyyyyyyyy_ hotter than Steven Tyler and Mick Jagger ever have a hope of being. So let's go for Mick Jagger and Angelina Jolie's love child. Anhow, it's al about the lips.

"So, back to my therapy; what do you think of him?" Puck asks when I sit back on his bed, still a little upset that it doesn't pop.

"I don't know. I mean jeez he is gorgeous, lips and all. And now I've seen the real him -"

"The real him?" Puck frowns.

"Yeah. He hides behind this huge egotistical mask which isn't anything like him, and it really gets to me! You know, the stereotypical assoholic jock that so many people favour. But the real Sam is so much better. He's all cute and nervous and sweet. I get that horrible feeling that he's only going to be like that when it's just me and him. He needs to keep his reputation, and I get that," I glance at Puck, and his eyebrows are raised, silently contradicting me.

"Okay, you're right; I'm lying. I don't get it. I don't understand why you have to be an asshole to have a social status, or why when you're a jock you _have_ to treat your girlfriend like total crap. Their only goal is to get laid as many times as possible by that girl, before dumping her the next week and moving onto the next whore with boobs and a pulse. And as much as it pains me to say it, I like the guy. I like him, I do. But I want the real Sam. The one where we'll go down the hallways hand in hand and he'll walk me to class, and kiss me by my locker..." I'm getting lost in my own fantasies, and reluctantly come back to reality to finish my 'New Shirt' speech, "I don't want to be his new shirt," I say firmly, "The one that he wears everyday for a week, and shows around because it's designer and new. The one that he hangs up because he's proud of it, and hell, he even irons it himself. And then another one's out for sale and it's better than the one he's already got. It's a different colour, or it's softer, or maybe he just prefers the pattern. So he buys it, throwing the old one to the bottom of the pile, all crumpled, without a care in the world, because after all, it's just a shirt, and there are plenty more where that came from,"

_Puck's quiet for a minute, mentally digesting what she's saying. Did she really just compare herself to a shirt? He internally shrugs. He does know what she's talking about. You know – with him being different. When he first started Glee he was kinda cool, and awesome at Black Op's. He spoke Avatar language and did funny impressions. Plus he had that huge mouth that Puck could make fun of. Now he's super cool, and kind of a womaniser and Puck can't help thinking that he's inflicted his friend with his amazingly awesome badass jock ways. He's way more badass so Puck doesn't take the micky out of his mouth anymore in case he bites his head off, but the guy has grown a back bone and Puck likes that about him. But it all started after he dated Santana. She was constantly insulting the poor guy, until he was just a shell. Awesome to hang out with, but still not quite...Sam Evans. He is thinking hard. He does want to make her feel better because she's his friend, but he doesn't really know how too. Talking isn't really his forte, and he and Genie haven't gotten to that stage yet. It's hard to talk with his mouth attached to hers, and Puck's fine with that. So Puck does what Puck does best and comes out with..._

"The guy does buy really awesome shirts,"

I roll my eyes. Puck could never/should never be a therapist .

"I don't care if they're $100 a piece," I pause, pursing my lips, and then I say something that I regret as soon as it slips out of my mouth, "I don't want to be his most expensive, or newest shirt. Just his favourite one,"

He looks at me with that annoying shit-faced grin, which means that he now has dirt on me, then turns serious, and questions:

"Then why aren't you telling him that?"

And it's just as I open my mouth to answer, that the inevitable happens.

I hear footsteps, and Puck's mom's voice shouts up "Puck, your friend Sam is here!"

We look at each other, eyes wide.

'The bathroom! _Quick!_' he mouths, pointing at the white door.

I tiptoe into the bathroom, praying that Puck's Mom said nothing about me being here.

I peep out of the crack where I've left the door open a little bit, and watch Sam sprawl himself across the space on Puck's bed where I was sat not a minute ago.

He's wearing sunglasses, and a blue and white checked shirt.

"What's up Puckerman?"

"The Basketball,"

"Aw man, is this yesterday's game? I recorded it, but I haven't been able to watch it yet. I've been in bed _all_ day. No, actually, that's a lie," he laughs, "I barfed so many times there wasn't even any point in being in my bedroom, so I've just lived in the bathroom,"

"Dude, don't even say the word barf,"

They both laugh, and concentrate on the game for a bit. Oh wow, guys are _so_ dull. Is this really what they do? Then Puck pipes up again.

"So what went _down_ last night?" This could get interesting…

Sam smirks. "I don't kiss and tell,"

"It's all over Facebook," is Puck's response. It doesn't faze Sam one bit.

"I know. I don't remember any cameras," (glad I'm not the only one).

"You were kind of eye fucking Annie. _All night_. And then you glued yourself to her hip,"

"Really? I don't remember," he says casually, taking off his shades and inspecting them.

My mouth drops in embarrassment. Of course he doesn't remember. He was drunk. And there I was thinking that he was making out with me, and telling me I looked pretty because he meant it. Now I can just sit here and bask in my idiocy.

"Yeah, I'm sure. That's definitely not the face of someone who doesn't remember. I'm pretty sure that you remember disappearing upstairs with her at about 11. I didn't see you after that. I'm not stupid Evans. You like her,"

"I don't know man, I'm not sure,"

"Really? You've already dated 2 of the hottest girls in school; why stop now?"

Sam shrugs. "I'm not stopping. Just maybe...keeping an open mind. You know; checking out the scenery,"

The same words he'd used in the locker room. And just like that he's gone back to being the guy that he was back then. Any change of opinion on him was slashed. So I was just another regret. Another little Cheerio dolly to add to his collection.

"I get what you're saying. But she is hot,"

"Oh, yeah, don't get me wrong; she is smoking. And the party was fun. But have you ever heard of the saying 'Blame it on the Alcohol?"

"Evans, I coined that term,"

"Exactly. I don't want her to get any ideas. Not just yet," he puts his hands behind his head, turning his attention once again to the TV.

Any _ideas_? Is he serious? The words make me feel sick to my stomach.

So, he was leading me on, just to see what happened. But he doesn't want anything serious. Anything that involves commitment. 'Let's take it slow,' I think back, embarrassed. Take _what_ slow? Our 'relationship'? When did he ever say anything about that? Oh my God, I'm so stupid! He's the hot Quarter-back! I'm a nobody. I'm in Glee. I'm a new Cheerio. I'm so stuck up to think that because I'm new that everyone will want me. I feel my face burning up. Ugh, I imagined it all. He was just playing me along, and having a good laugh. This right here proves it all. He doesn't want me to become all clingy, and think that we're a couple just because we made out a couple of times while drunk at a Rachel Berry party. Yep; all of that _definitely _shouts commitment.

I remember something about him wanting to kiss me for a while, but that was a kiss. That wasn't him saying that he actually liked me. I'm sure he wants to kiss lots of people that he doesn't fancy. I for sure wouldn't mind kissing Finn, or Puck, but I don't like them in that way. UGH. As depressed people addicted to Facebook say: FML (Fuck my life). I made it all up in my head. What did I really expect? As I've pointed out; he's the Quarter-back. He looks like he's just waltzed out of a model shoot for teen vogue. His smile makes you melt. His body gives you the tingles. He has the female student body lining up to give him anything he wants, and here I am, thinking that I'm special. Thinking he chose _me_. Well, I guess I'm just stupid.

"That's a nice shirt Sam,"

"Thanks," Sam plucks at the material, "It's new,"

Puck looks straight up at me, and I _almost_ throw up. But then Sam would hear it, and come in and see me puking in Puck's bathroom, and that would be not so hot.

_3:30 p.m._

Sam finally leaves.

I now know what it's like to have sex with Genie. Ooh, and what Santana's air–bags feel like. On the whole: not really anything that I particularly needed to know. They also compared their Quinn kissing, but I've already had that experience. Jeez, what am I thinking? I can't fancy Quinn! She's my friend. _Just_ my friend because she's a girl and I am also a girl and therefore the alcohol is to blame for everything. No, I don't fancy Quinn. That's stupid.

While I was in there though, I designed my mask, for definite.

I'll be the Cheerleader that no one messes with. The total opposite of how I really am. I haven't been myself while I'm here. Not really. Sometimes at home, and with Blaine, and that little bit with Sam when I was drunk. And I'm normal with Artie and Kurt. There are just certain people who I can be myself around. I start wondering who myself really is. I haven't been Annabel Felicity Fredricks in a long time. Not since what happened with Jake. It's so frustrating that one awful and unforgivable act of someone, can change a person's life. There's no choice. It's just not fair! I want my old self back! I was polite, and sweet, and nice. I would blush when people complimented me, and I was innocent. Shy even. I was normal. And he stole that from me. And now I can't get it back. I want it back so badly. Maybe I would be liked, and respected more. Maybe I would be a little smarter. Maybe I would do better in class.

There are certain people who bring back little traits of that old Annabel.

I've been Annabel, I've been Fliss, and now I'm Annie. And Annie is going to rock like boulders. I'm going to do it right. I'm finally going to get something right. But it'll take time, and I'm going to use it wisely.

I'll be all nice and sweet when he's least expecting it, and then go back to being teasing and sarcastic.

Two can play at this game, Sam Evans.

I've made up my mind; he _will_ be mine. I'm going to be the girl that he _wants_ to commit too. I'll keep him going until he's _begging_ for it. It's the only way to teach a guy like him a lesson. Wow, I feel like one of those chicks from 'John Tucker Must Die'. Amazing film. And Puck _totally_ pulls off the Jesse Metcalfe look.

"See you tomorrow,"

"Later man," Sam closes the door just as I emerge from the bathroom.

I put my hand on my hip. "I want'z on those froggy lips,"

Puck looks up at me from his bed. "You know, if I wanted Santana Lopez in my room I would seriously just call her,"

I laugh, falling into the Sam shape space. Oh my _Jeez_, it even _smells_ like him.

"Puckerman, I have a plan," I announce, and he raises one eyebrow, signalling that he wants in.

_Sam Evans p.o.v_

_5 weeks ago. _

"This morning I woke up and decided to swallow the sun,"

The sassy Latina just looks at me.

"That's my James Earl Jones impression," I clarify.

"Okay first of all, that is _offensive_. He shot Martin Luther King,"

She doesn't sound very happy, so I break out the Star Wars. "Obi wan never told you what happened to your father-"

"Okay, you know what, I'm just gonna cut to the chase," Santana presses her fingertips to her temple, momentarily closing her eyes before she continues, "Despite the fact that your mouth to face ratio is like, way off, you still somehow manage to be cute," the corner of my mouth turns up at this. I'm still not used to having so much attention from girls. Especially not ones which look like Santana. "But make no mistake; every time you open your _humongous_ mouth to do an impression or moisten an enormous stamp for a lazy giant, you take one step closer to everyone seeing that you are actually a dork," I feel my face drop until she plays _these_ cards. "And that's where I come in," she straightens her back. "I hereby offer my services as a mistress," she slides closer, a demanding tone now taking on her voice, "I want'z on them froggy lips, and I want'z on 'em _now_,"

"But I'm dating Quinn," I point out, knowing what's coming next.

"And this just in; she _cheated_ on you,"

"No she didn't," I deny, shaking my head. Quinn loves me. And besides, I know the real story.

"Look, I know you're as dumb as a bag of wet hair, but you know in your heart she's _lying_. That gumball story was _insane_!"

I avoid her eye contact because I'm getting this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.

"You're _choosing_ to believe it so you can still be with her," she now draws back, recapturing my attention. "But consider my offer. Not _only_ am I giving you full visitation rights to the set of _rambunctious_ twins that live on my ribcage," I let my eyes drop to the questioned 'twins' for a second, before meeting her eyes again, "you get to show that _pastry bag_ Finn that he can't mess with Sam Evans. And not just because you can unlock your _humongous _jaw and swallow him whole like a python, but because you have some _buzz_ at this school," she shrugs, "Think about it," then gets up, leaving me staring at the table.

_Today. _

_Sunday 5__th__ May_

I'm laying on my bed, tossing and catching my football _very_ carefully because it's already hit me in the face. _Twice_. Thinking back to that day in the Library with Santana, makes me feel awful all over again. I felt like crap. There she was, pointing out all of my flaws, and then she expected me to go out with her? I mean, I did, but that's not the point. The point is _how_ she did it.

By making me feel vulnerable, and because she was hot, I _totally_ fell for it.

"By making you feel deformed and stupid, you automatically assume that no one is going to want you, and therefore she instantly has the upper hand by simply being in the right place at the right time." My older sister Shelby had explained to me, "You're worried about being lonely and rejected. She's there," she'd shrugged.

Shelby knows girls like Santana inside out, because she's one herself.

Yesterday, when I went over Puck's, he got my head all confused. He was telling me that we (me and Annie) were all over each other all night. Of course, my school side had to say: "Really? I don't remember," But of course I do. Yep, that's right, I have one of those masks. It's the only way a guy like me can survive high school. When Santana was kindly pointing out that I'm a dork with the biggest mouth in the world, I decided to change my ways. I knew there wasn't a lot I could do about my lips, but the dork bit could go. Well, at school it could. Home is different, but at school I could be the guy that people didn't make fun of. Wouldn't want to make fun of, because he's popular, and cool. Ugh, I hate being that guy. Seems self obsessed. That's so not me, but the slushies stopped, and the girls all look at me. A lot. And I kinda like that.

Up until then I was just Sam Evans. And that was good. People seemed to _like_ Sam Evans. He had cool hair, and awesome guitar skills, and did really dorky but secretly outstanding impressions. I mean sure, there was the odd comment, 'Lady Lips' and 'Trouty Mouth'. The usual. I was used to it. But I was the rising star at McKinley. Quarter-Back + Hot cheerleader = the top. And that's when things started to go downhill. Quinn cheated on me with Finn, which meant that me and Finn weren't friends anymore. But I'd been _stupid_ enough to believe her ridiculous cover story. Santana was right; it was insane. But I'd totally almost choked on a gumball once and Quinn was my girlfriend. Trust is a major thing in any relationship, and I trusted her. That was my mistake.

So right then and there, at that table where Santana left me, I puffed my cheeks out, let out a big breath and decided that I had to change. My real personality is all soft like play dough, and easily crushed. I need to be stronger. So instead, I turn like Puck; the stereotypical asshole jock. This was working. It went perfectly with dating Santana. But then I discovered that she was a closeted lesbian, who only had eyes for the fashioneista Britany. The dating thing had worked to boost our popularity, but we broke up kinda swiftly after that. I don't blame her; I mean, Britany is pretty hot. And one hell of a kisser. I felt quite proud of myself because I'd dated a lesbian. I mean, we didn't get past third base, and she was never one for romance, but still.

My mask was doing its job. And then came along Annie Fredricks. And it turned out that you couldn't please everybody. She saw _only_ the mask. The stereotypical asshole as she puts it. And she didn't believe it, but it's the only part she's seen. Then at the party she slipped up, and I took that opportunity to dive in. When we were in the '7 minutes in Heaven' I was being all nice to her. I told her that she looked pretty, and that I'd wanted to kiss her since I met her. I was _me_. And she _liked_ it. She liked _me_. I didn't even feel weird taking my mask off in front of her. I took it as a good sign when she kissed me. And _damn_ she made me work for it, but I got there. I knew she was drunk, and that must've been the only reason that she did what she did, but it still felt amazing. I think the reason that I let my guard down is because I knew that she wouldn't remember. I wasn't that drunk. A little tipsy maybe, but not nearly enough to forget what happened. I lied to Puck when I said I couldn't remember. I remember it all...

_Flashback._

_Rachel Berry's house party. _

_11:24 p.m._

_I begin to suck at the pressure point of her neck, and she lets out a moan, while pulling me closer by the belt loops of my jeans. I almost freeze when I feel my pants getting tighter, and it rubs against her hip (seeing as she's shorter than me by almost a head). But it doesn't faze her at all. In fact, she fumbles with the door handle behind us for a minute, before pulling me through, and closing the door. I finally unattach myself from her pulse point, admiring my work – there's already a sizeable red/pink mark forming on her neck. She slides her hands underneath my shirt, and traces down the lines of my body. I grin, tilting her chin up so as my lips can cover hers again. She tastes __so__ good. It's addictive. And __then__, she does something which makes my breath hitch in my throat. _

_She unbuttons my jeans, all the while keeping her lips moving around mine, and her hand slithers under my boxers, gripping me softly. I groan into her mouth, and feel her smile as she moves her hand up and down. And she carries on, first slow, and getting faster the more I moan, until I do unravel, only a little bit. But she catches it, saving my jeans, boxers, and Rachel's bedding. She licks it off her hand, and my mouth drops. She grins cheekily. _

"_What?" _

"_You," I stutter, surprised. I pull her mouth back to mine, as we fall back onto the mattress. _

_I take off her belt, and unbutton her jeans, so as I can see the top of her little panties. They're lacy, and baby blue, with little bows on them. I pull them a little bit with my teeth, and she giggles. I plant kisses on her stomach, and progress upwards, putting my hands on the sides of her top and pulling it up as I go. She runs her fingers through my hair, and I can tell where this is going. _

"_Hey, hey," I smile, leaning on my side next to her. _

"_Please?" she says, giving me the puppy eyes, and playing with my collar. _

_Every instinct is telling me to give in, but I shake my head. _

"_You'll be too drunk to even remember this. I don't want it to happen like that," I explain, stroking the side of her face. _

"_Ohh!" she crumples up her nose, and puts her hands over her face. _

_I laugh, doing up her jeans, and sliding her belt back on, before doing the same to myself. _

_We lay there for a while; I don't know how long, but just until things stop spinning, and I'm fit enough to drive. I pick her up bridal style, and just tell Kurt that I'm taking her home. He says that he'll drop Blaine home at some point before the morning. _

_On the way home she starts mumbling something about Harry Potter, and someone called Ken, and French Fries. I laugh, concentrating on the road. It's fairly quiet. _

_When I get to the Fredricks door, I put Annie down, with her arm around my shoulder, and me holding her up by the waist. Her Mom answers. She's hot. And she doesn't look happy. _

"_Up the stairs, second on your left," she tells me stiffly, as she looks tired, and not capable of carrying a teenager up the stairs. "And no funny business," she also warns, and I hurry to insure her that that's just not my intention. _

_I carry a limp Annie to her room. I like her room; it smells nice, which might be weird but I don't care. When I put her down onto her sheets she flops like a fish. She's not an attractive sleeper: her mouth hangs open a little, but it makes me laugh. _

_I peel off her jeans (which is hard because they're super tight), and it's when I'm lifting her top off over her head that she stirs. I fold up the clothes and put them on a chair, and then look up at her draws and wardrobe. There are 6 draws. _

"_Second one...pyjamas," the girl manages to mumble. _

_I open the second draw and sure enough I find some loose fitting shorts, and a baggy Bench t-shirt. _

"_Sammy?" she croaks. _

_I look up from what I'm doing, "Yeah?" _

"_Is this real life?" the Blonde slurs. _

_I chuckle quietly and whisper back "Yes Annie, this is real life," then continue bringing the shorts up round her thighs. _

"_I don't want you to see my...chesty...business," _

_I hold my hands up above my head. "It's fully covered," _

"_But you're a __boy__ Sam. You can't see it because...that would be morally wrong. And also bad," _

"_No, no, I know. I'm not looking. I promise," I hurry to reassure her. _

"_Good. So when you take it off don't look!" _

_When I take it off? I'm planning on taking it off? Obviously. Still, I guess sleeping in that tight lacy bra would be uncomfortable. I certainly wouldn't want to sleep in it. _

_I walk round to the other side of the bed so as I'm behind her, and clamber up onto the purple sheets. With one hand, I lift her body, and with the other I undo the clasp on her bra and slide it off. Not being able to resist, I quickly check the size: 34C. _

_I let my cheeks puff out. Bigger than Quinn's. _

_Still, I promised her I wouldn't look, so I don't. I keep my eyes on her face the whole time i'm gently pulling the top over her head. _

_When I'm done, I kiss her forehead but she grabs my shirt. _

"_You didn't look?" she yawns, opening both eyes and staring at me expectantly._

"_I didn't look," I confirm. _

"_Good boy," she ruffles my hair. _

_I laugh, "I'll see you at school," _

_But she has other ideas. "You forgot.." she murmurs, waving her hand at me, and I go back over. _

_Then she presses her lips to mine._

_I smile, and she smiles, then flops, and falls straight asleep._

_Present__._

I'll bet she didn't remember any of _that_ in the morning.

I sigh, pulling out of the memory, and getting up.

"What's good for a hangover?" I ask no one in particular when I get downstairs.

Dad's playing golf, so that leaves me with Mom, Shelby and her friend. Stacy is at this fun camp with her friend, and Stevie is at the park with one of his friends.

"You shouldn't have been drinking in the first place," Shelby says,

"Don't start,"

"Samuel, Shelby, no fighting," Mom demands.

"Then tell her to mind her own freaking business," I roll my eyes, take some aspirin out of the cupboard and head back up to my room.

Back to Annie situation; I want to have her wanting _me_. Minus the alcohol. I mean, Saturday was obviously just the alcohol. Not for me, but for her. And everyone has to think that I have control.

Pfft, it meant nothing. Just another girl to add to my list. Just gossip to throw around the locker room.

I bite my lip because I can't do that. I'd be lying if I said that it didn't mean anything. I know that at school I'm an asshole, but there's only so much you can do before you are an _actual_ dickhead. That's not me. There's only so far I can go. Being nice would be the easy route, but this way is more challenging. I'm not all bright bulbs in the brains department, so I do _whatever_ I can to keep people minds off that.

It's hard being dyslexic. People hear about it, but I don't think a lot of them actually know what it is.

It's _crap_, that's what it is. I'd love to be normal.

I feel my eyes starting to damp with tears, which is stupid because boys don't cry. Especially not jocks. So I put Avatar into my DVD player and settle back, hoping that all my problems will just let me alone for a few hours sp as I can enjoy some time being me.

I'd love to know what you think about Sam's and Genie's p.o.v ;) Just fucking review it.

Until next time!


	8. Chapter 8

OH WOW. Jeez, I got an AMAZING response to the last chapter! Thankyou to Shannon, and the normals greeneyedbaby and MyNameIsProngs. You guys, omg, I'm ill right now, but you guys made my day! So, this chapter is more of a filler really, but I'll think I'll put the next chapter on today anyway. Hope you guys enjoy (:  
>R&amp;R.<p>

Chapter 8.

Annie p.o.v 

Monday 6th May

So, today is the school assembly. I am nervous, yes. We rehearse, rehearse, and rehearse, until it's perfect. The school assembly is at 12, and here we are, 9'oclock in the morning, on our way to Glee.

I walk down the hallway, with my glasses on when I see Mr. Schuester. His forehead is crumpled, and he doesn't look very happy. Principle Figgins is talking, well, more like shouting but I think that's my hangover.

Then just whispers "Why are you screaming?" and I laugh.

I see the other Glee members, and they're all wearing sunglasses. I go over, smiling. On the inside, my head is throbbing, and if anyone mentions anything to do with vomit, I will puke.

I avoid Sam, and don't talk to him all day, which is probably best since Artie gives us some bloody Mary. When it comes to 12:00'oclock, we all meet backstage in our costumes, and _damn_. My eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. He's wearing a beanie, and black sleeveless top, and his _arms_. He smiles, and I quickly convert my gaze to Rachel. She tells us to gather round, and pours us each a cup of this stuff which looks like...I don't know. Something. It tastes like Oreo's and cough syrup, which isn't the nicest taste, but it's supposed to calm your nerves, so I gulp it down anyway.

We get into our positions on stage, and the curtain lifts up as the music starts pumping out the beat. My eyes are indeed on Sam the entire time. Do you know how annoying that is? Especially when you're trying to dance. Then I hear Britany stop singing which can't be right because she's our lead. And then...

"Blergh!"

I turn to see Britany, who has just thrown up _all over_ Rachel, who runs off with that OMG look on her face. Then Santana pukes too, and Britany just says: "Everybody drink responsibly," which might have been the smartest thing she's ever said in her life. Then I have to run off too.

When I emerge from the toilets, Sam is there, leaning on the door frame.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine now," I tell him.

He smiles, and my heart melts, and then I run off.

Tuesday 7th May.

I go straight to my locker, and can't for the life of me remember the combination. It takes me a good few minutes of hard thinking, then I stop, and start wondering what's for lunch, and it pops into my head. I'm wondering what sort of punishment we'll get for yesterday and how lucky I am to have science first because I can sleep, whilst unloading my bag. Sleep...Aaah. I still have that post-hangover headache, which is horrible.

I clutch a science text book to my chest and try to get _some_ order in my locker. It looks like a bomb has exploded in there or something.

"Annie," a voice says softly from my left.

"Sam," Stage 1 – be distant; make him _wonder_.

"How are you? When I took you back on Saturday you were pretty out of it,"

"Jesus, I wasn't _that_ bad!" I widen my eyes, even though I don't fully remember him taking me home.

"Are you _serious_? You were _paralytic. _I had to carry you to your room, _and_ get you into pyjamas," he leans forward.

My mouth drops. So _that's_ why I woke up in my PJ's! Oh My God he _undressed_ me!

As I continue to stare at him, the blonde boy raises his eyebrows and smirks.

"You...you _undressed_ me?" I lower my voice to a hiss.

"Oh yeah. And you know what _that_ means, don't you?"

"I'm pretty sure I don't want to know,"

"Probably not, but I'll tell you anyway,"

"Of course you will," I reply bitterly, adjusting the pictures on the inside of my locker door.

"Now I can look at you, and I know what's underneath the clothes," he smirks.

I roll my eyes, as he puts his hands in his letterman jacket pockets. Then he leans in really close, and whispers in my ear: "34C," and my mouth drops. And he even has the audacity to squeeze my ass as he walks away!

I let out an irritated grunt, and slam my locker door which sounds like someone has just shot a bullet into my eardrum.

I sit in science and watch him and Puck act all stupid, melting pens with Bunsen burners, and flicking bits of paper at me. Puck signals for me to open the paper aeroplane which he just sent my way. I snort, shaking my head as I unfold the pretty disastrous model. My jaw hits the floor as I read Puck's writing:

'34C eh Annie? ;) 3'

I think of what to reply because my brain is almost dead, then i write:

'_Yeah, I wish i had tits like yours though. They're freaking __huge__ :/_ '

And I get back:

'You're not doing too badly'

'_More than I can say for you.'_

You want my penis ;D

I snort. Please.

'_Yeah, the whole 1 inch.'_

That's a girl asking for proof!

No it's not.

'_Bring it on losers.'_

'Oh we will ;) LOVEYOU! 3'

I crumple the aeroplane, and toss it at the trash can, giving myself a mental high five when it goes in. I put my head in my hands, and then look at the work sheet given out my teacher: 'list the dangers of cannabis'.

I huff, and write: '_you might actually have fun'._

"So," I jump, and find Rachel being the source of the voice. Of course.

"Oh jeez Rachel, what now?" I fling my pencil down.

"I only desire the answer to a simple question," she slides into the seat beside me, and I'm suddenly cautious. Nothing is ever simple when it's Rachel Berry.

"What's that?"

"What's going on between you and Samuel?"

My face flushes. "I don't kiss and tell Berry,"

"No, but he does,"

I look up at the girl. "What do you mean?"

She pulls out her pink i-Pod touch, hacks into the school internet, and finds Jacob Ben Israel's blog. The video is labelled 'Saturday night shocks'. She hands me a pair of pink earphones, (which is very typical of Rachel Berry) so I plug them in and press play.

The camera shakes its way into the boys' locker room, where they find Sam, and a bunch of other guys from the football team.

"Sam Evans; is it true that you invested in advanced photo-editing software?"

Sam looks up. "What?"

I laugh at his cluelessness.

"The photo's that were posted via Facebook of you and hot new Cheerio Annie Fredricks,"

He stares down, concentrating as he threads his belt through the loop holes of his jeans. "What about them?"

"Are you suggesting that they're legitimate?" I hear the shock in Jacob's voice.

"Look; I don't know what that word means, but I can assure you that they're real,"

"How do you know?"

How does he know? Oh my jeez. Seriously?

"Well, because; I was there. And Annie was there, and we were making out. On Rachel's couch. I remember,"

"But there was alcohol consumed?"

"Well, yeah but-"

"We spoke to the Vomit Queen earlier today and she fessed up that she locked lips with the brand new Cheerio. Is it true that Miss. Fredricks also made out with the MILF Quinn Fabre, your ex-girlfriend?"

He looks totally confused.

"Well yeah...we played spin the bottle, and they kissed but-"

"And how does that make you feel?" Jacob interrupts him again.

"How does _what_ make me feel?" Sam asks, his tone frustrated.

"The fact that the love of your life might be after your new candy,"

"That's insane," Sam responds, pulling the grey jumper over his wet hair.

"What can you say about the Santana, Britany, and Annie love triangle?"

"I don't know anything about that," Join the club, "But Annie is definitely batting for _this_ team," Sam lifts up his shirt and tenses his abs.

"And we now have an official confirmation. Step back ladies of McKinley, this trouty mouth belongs to one Annie Fredricks!"

"Stop twisting my words I never said that," Sam frowns.

'_Bless him. This his first ever McKinley blog attack. He'll get used to that' Rachel thinks to herself._

"So she _is_ involved with Britany Peirse and/or Quinn Fabre?"

"Look, dude, I don't understand half the things you're saying, but I can tell you this; Annie Fredricks said hello to second base," then he leans right into the camera and does this gorgeous wink.

Jacob's jaw mops the floor, and he says: "Glee Club Scores!" and then the video ends.

I pop out the headphones.

"Well, I would be _a lot_ more offended if I know what _second base_ was,"

I'm not lying. But then again, he made everything public, in the hope of possibly humiliating me, and also hoping that the whole 'him with his shirt off' thing turned me on. I mean it did. Along with the rest of the female student body. But Jacob announced Mouth as _mine_. I don't think he realises what in the hell he's just started. Sam wanted it to be clear that he wears the trousers in this 'non-existent-for-the-moment' relationship.

Oh I am so onto his game.

_And_ he's going to know it.

2:25 p.m.

In Spanish.

Staring at the back of Sam's head, tired of trying to figure out half of the stuff Mr. Schuester has written on the board. I'm sitting next to Mike, who is lobbing paper balls at Finn and Puck, and then an announcement hits the loudspeakers.

"Heeeeeeeey there sexxxyy ladyyy,"

There's no mistaking it: it's quite clearly a drunken . Oh my jeez.

At the words 'I rode a bull and I was thinking of you' I turn to Mike, and he looks a little bit scared.

He must've been _really_ off his face because the message is to Coach Sylvester.

3:10 p.m.

In Principle Figgins office.

"We're screwed," I chew on my lip.

"I'm probably gonna get suspended," Puck sighs, looking at me.

"I think you'll definitely get suspended. I think you'll all get suspended," Mr. Schuester confirms, sounding stressed.

Then the Principle comes in and congratulates us. Our show was amazing, and he has had no drunken students today for the first.

Wow.

In the choir room.

We sign a contract which means that we can't drink until after National's.

Mr. Schue tells us to look in the top corner because that's his cell phone number.

Sam goes: "Yes!"

If he's gay, I'm suing someone.

_At home_.

_Facebook_.

Noah 'Puck' Puckerman: So, is anyone actually going to stick to that contract?

Mercedes Jones: Yes!

Santana Lopez: Yep.

Sam 'I am' Evans: Yeah.

Rachel Barbra Berry: I'm never touching anything alcoholic ever again...

Noah 'Puck' Puckerman: What if I asked you to pass me a drink?

Rachel Barbra Berry: Noah, don't be stupid. I would tell you to get it yourself and not be so lazy. But that won't happen because no one will be drinking.

Genie 'blows' Puckerman: You guys are so dull :/ No alcohol? It's depressing.

_Noah 'Puck' Puckerman likes this. _

Annie Fredricks: I don't need alcohol to have fun!

Genie 'blows' Puckerman: *Cough* Sam.

_11 people like this._

Sam 'I am' Evans: Why am I getting dragged into this? :S

Annie Fredricks: I don't know |: I think Genie is trying to make this awkward.

Genie 'blows' Puckerman: I don't need to. You two are already doing a fine job of it yourselves (;

Kurt Hummel: Who thinks that Mr. Schuester should get Facebook?

_17 people like this._

Sam 'I am' Evans: Should we call him and ask?


	9. Chapter 9

So, I have nowt to do, I'm sitting at home, in bed, feeling generally crap, and Chapter's 8&9 are mostly fillers, so I figured I'd put them up in one go, and then you'll have more to read. This chapter has quite a few OC's in, they aren't major parts, but I think it would be a bit weird if every person she's ever with was a member of glee. I'm just trying to make it more realistic. And she's also kind of dealing with her whole Quinn situation.

Let me know what you think (: Enjoy. R&R.

Chapter 9.

Wednesday 8th May. 

In English there's a student who has been moved into mine and Genie's class. Her name is Ellie . She's English (_AN- for one of my best friends Meg. i asked her if she wanted to be American, but she says 'no, English is fine. It's worked out for me so far' :L and I LOL'D my panties)_,has big light blue eyes, and a pretty smile. She looks kind of...innocent. If that's the word. And she's a bit curvier than me and Genie, but it's good, because she has curves in all the right places. I.e. her boobs are _massive_. Not that I'm looking or anything, but they're kind of, right _there_.

She sits behind us so we can't really talk to her, but I will. She looks cool. And English.

10:14 a.m.

In Gym Class.

On the Muga with Genie and Catherine, another Cheerio. Usually I'm with Quinn for Gym, but she caught me staring at her this morning and it was the most awkward thing ever. So here I am, putting up a tennis court. I'll tell you now; the only reason I do tennis, is because the Cricket runs are right next to it, and Sam in a Cricket uniform is one of the sexiest things I've ever seen in my life. But then I see him going over to the other side of the field where the Senior girls doing track running are.

"What? No! Why are they going over there?" my jaw drops as I watch Jennifer, the gorgeous brunette Senior who looks like she'd be a porn star, give Sam a hug, and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Because Jennifer Bailey is over there. Why _wouldn't_ they want to be there?" Genie says, as if it's obvious, while doing a stretch.

"That's true," I reply bitterly.

"It doesn't really matter whether they're over here anyway. We don't have that many attractive guys in our grade," Catherine shrugs.

"What?"

"Have you seen my boyfriend?" Genie asks, incredulously.

I want to say 'Yes Genie, we've seen your boyfriend. _Everyone_ has seen your boyfriend. You won't let us forget that you get to have sex with him on a regular basis'. But I'm a nice person, so I don't.

"You should come and watch a glee rehearsal," I tell her.

"You're alright; you just think everyone is hot. Whereas _I_ have a specific type," Catherine goes into the splits.

"Name one person who you think is hot," I demand.

"Your Mom,"

"That's great," I roll my eyes, and her and Genie laugh.

But then I see the guys making their way to the Cricket pitch, and I'm happy again.

So, things have been a little awkward between Sam and I, but that doesn't change the fact that he's gorgeous. I'll tell you why Cricket is the best sport: hot guys, bending over in tight white trousers? Yes please. _Plus_ Sam actually manages to pull off the stupid helmet. And that's hard to do.

It starts drizzling, which is mildly annoying because for one, my hair and clothes are getting all damp and horrible; two, I can't see to hit the ball, and three, it's not raining enough for Coach Australia (not really but she's from Australia and I don't know her actual name) to let us go in.

"Genie, you absolutely suck at Tennis," I tell her as I glumly hit the ball over the net.

"It's true," Isabel, Catherine's partner nods.

"Tennis just isn't my forte, okay?"

"Yeah, no kidding," I mumble.

"Okay guys, pack up the stuff, let's go," Coach shouts, squinting through the rain, which is now pelting.

We quickly grab our stuff, and make to the girls Gym, with our tennis rackets.

As I'm going past The Cricket pitch, I'm staring at Sam, and then he looks up. Oh My Jeez, how many times is that going to happen? It's super embarrassing. Maybe I should just never look at anyone ever again. It makes me feel stupid.

I drop my gaze straight to the floor. Then I hear him call 'Annie' and when I glance back at him, he gives me this heart melting smile, and waves. I just smile back, and as I walk away, I'm grinning to myself, and my face is flushing.

'That should definitely _not_ make you so happy' the bitchy mini-me on my left shoulder scolds. 'Ooh, but it does' the love struck mini-me on the other shoulder swoons.

"_Why_ are you smiling so hard? It looks like your face is going to crack in half," someone says to my left.

I turn and see Jennifer. Ugh. Even with damp hair and blotchy makeup she looks amazing.

"No reason," I reply stiffly.

She fakes a sneeze, and then says: "Sorry; I'm allergic to bullshit,"

"What the hell ever, you don't know anything about me Jennifer. Why are you talking to me?"

'For an ego boost' bitchy mini me says.

Actually, she completely ignores my question, and says more to herself than me:

"So, Sam is totally cute. In fact, I think he's the only _hot_ guy on the football team that I haven't slept with..." she pulls a thinking face, "Hmm...that needs to be fixed,"

Oh my God, they're totally going to do it. And I don't even know whether me and him did it! I mean all the smiling and stuff? I can't ask him because that would be the sort of uncomfortable where I would just want to crawl under a rock and die.

"Why are you telling me this?" I snap.

"To get that exact reaction," she smirks, "You have the hots for Trouty Mouth. It's obvious,"

"No I don't!"

"So tell me, is Quinn a good kisser?" she leans on the wall outside the gym, looking curious and evil at the same time.

I widen my eyes, feel myself turning scarlet, then turn on my heel and walk brusquely into the gym.

_11:00 a.m._

_Break. _

Britany approaches me by my locker.

"What's up Brit?" I smile at her.

"The ceiling," she smiles back.

I stifle a laugh.

"Did I get it right?"

"Yep. Top marks,"

"Can I have a sticker?" she asks hopefully, "My Mom always gives me these really cool stickers,"

"Sure," I grin, "I'll get you some by Glee, okay?"

"Awesome," the ditzy blonde beams wide, hugging a purple fluffy notepad to her chest.

"What's with the notebook?"

"Well," she leans closer and hushes her voice, "I think my Cat has been reading my Diary, so now if I start writing in my notepad, he might get confused and think it's my Diary. It's top secret though, so if you see Lord Tubbington just act dead. It works every time," she explains.

"Dually noted," I nod.

"You have a notebook too? That's so cool,"

I chuckle.

"So, can I just try something super quick?" she asks.

Oh jeez, should I be worried? But come on, it's Britany. How bad can it be?

"Sure," I shrug.

"Okay," and to my _ultimate_ surprise, she leans right in and kisses me. And it's like a proper 5 second make out.

Then she draws back, smiling. "Thanks,"

I just stand there, too shocked to say anything. People are murmuring, and that's when I see Jacob and his camera crew.

"That's the hottest thing I've ever seen in my entire life. _And_ I've watched someone walk through fire," he whispers in awe. Then he turns to the camera and says "Glee club scores!"

"Okay, I'll see you at Glee," Britany kisses my cheek and leaves me standing there, completely gobsmacked.

I open my locker, mouth still slightly open from shock, and grab my art pad.

'How can she be so unconcerned?' I think to myself as I scurry to double art. 'I wish I had that much confidence'.

Oh my Jeez, Sam _and_ Quinn are in this lesson.

I walk in; head bowed, and sit at my desk. Our Art class is set out so as on each side of the room there's lots of tables' facing the walls all in one line, then rows of single tables down the middle. I sit on the left, facing the wall, next to Isabel. Quinn is on the other side of the room, and Sam is at the 2nd row from the front in the middle. Genie sits in the row behind him.

The teacher says something about depression and self harm, and canvases, but I'm not really listening. I'm so confused right now. The whole lesbian thing has been circling round the school, and now that blog will help stoke the fire. The fact that Quinn is one of my _best friends_ is going to make this so much harder. Quinn doesn't need this. She's been through worse and come out the other side. I won't. I'm one of those people who can't _stand_ to be gossiped about in the bad way. I can't tolerate the whispers and the stares because I'm _paranoid_, and it gets too me. Sometimes so badly that I can't sleep.

Maybe I might be licking that side of the stamp. Catching that bus. Maybe I did enjoy kissing Quinn.

But if anyone asks, I _will_ deny it. Call me selfish.

I would.

"Hey Annie," Quinn's voice comes from behind me.

My stomach lurches but I tell myself to power through it.

"Hey Quinn," I turn to face her.

"I just wanted to break the tension,"

"The tension? I didn't know that there was any tension," I lie.

"And thanks for the other night. You know, for worrying," she smiles at me warmly.

I'm momentarily distracted when I see Jennifer in the door window. She purses her lips and blows me a kiss, and then winks.

"It's fine," I turn my attention back to Quinn, "You're one of my best girl friends- not girl_friend_, but girl who's a friend so it's perfectly normal for me to worry, I mean I wouldn't want you to die or anything,"

"Okay, first of all Annie; breathe," she puts a hand on my arm, and i get goose bumps from her touch and I flinch. "Are you okay?" she questions with concern.

"I'm _swell_ Quinn, how're you?" I retort, a little sarcastically.

She frowns.

"You're not fine. Seriously; what's up?"

_Seriously_, has she not heard? Does she not remember? Or has she just decided that actually it's a stupid thing to get wound up about. That makes sense. But I snap.

"I'm fine Quinn! Okay? Fine!" I hold my hands up.

Her reaction is horrible. She jumps a little, and looks down, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'll just..." she turns and walks back to her seat.

I sigh, cupping my face in my hands, feeling my insides crumble. It's not right to take it out on Quinn. It's not her fault.

Isabel raises an eyebrow. I just shake my head.

_12:37 p.m._

"Blondie is staring at you," Isabel murmurs.

"What?" I look up at her.

"Sam,"

Oh. Is it bad that at first I thought she was talking about Quinn?

"You know, everyone thinks he's so gorgeous and all but-"

"But what?" I widen my eyes.

"I don't think he is," she screws up her nose.

"_How_?" my jaw drops.

"Not my type" she shrugs.

"Sam is like, _everyone's_ type,"

"I'm just not into blonde guys. I prefer Puck," she nods.

"Puck as in...Genie's boyfriend?" I point over my shoulder. But how many other Puck's are there in this school?

"Yeah. Him. The Mohawk kinda turns me on,"

"He's such a whore though,"

"When you're _that_ good in bed, you're allowed to share it around," she smirks.

"You've slept with him?"

"You _haven't_?"

My mouth just hangs open in shock. Is there _anyone_ who _hasn't_ slept with him, except me?

heads out to go and photocopy a drawing.

As soon as she closes the door, I slide off my stool and head over to the other side of the room. As I slide behind Sam he smiles and taps my butt. I waggle a finger at him, but wink.

Quinn has her full concentration on the pastel drawing of a Lilly, her curly ponytail falling over her right shoulder.

I hold out the piece of paper I just spent the last 10 minutes drawing on.

"What the hell is this?" she sighs, looking at it.

I just keep holding it out, and then she realises what it is.

"No Fredricks, you are _not_ pulling the friendship card on me," she shakes her head, leaning away from the card in question.

"I just did. I'm sorry that I was a bitch earlier, but today- screw that, this _week_ has been weird," I say firmly.

She sighs again, taking the multi-coloured card, and flipping it between her manicured fingertips. "Fine. I forgive you, because it would be morally wrong not to, considering that I'm a Christian, and you _were_ all sweet to me on Saturday,"

"Look, Quinn, let's get this very _straight_ right now; you're one of my best friends, I care about you, of course, and-"

"Then that's all I need to know," she smiles, and rests her head on my shoulder for a few seconds.

I puff out my cheeks.

_8:15 p.m._

_At Home._

_On Facebook._

More pictures tagged of the party. There is indeed a video of me and Rachel slow dancing to Barbra Streisand. Also one of me and Sam sitting in a corner talking, and of twister, and me and Sam dancing.

Confront Sam; don't confront Sam. Shall I flip a coin?

Reveiws are like crack. I LOVE them. So just fucking review it. I swear, it's like cloud 9.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 

Thursday 9th May

_1:15 p.m._

Walking down to the bleachers with Ellie and Genie. Oh my Jeez, Ellie is so cool. And also super smart. It's unbelievable. She also has good taste in guys, which is always a plus. Sam came up behind me in Astronomy and slapped my ass with a ruler, and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head.

"Who is _that_?" she asked in her sexy English accent.

"That's Sam," I told her.

"Annie's in love with him," Genie dropped in, and I slapped her.

"Am _not_," I denied.

"Are too," Catherine decided to say as she was walking past.

"No I don't!" I stomped my foot in the fashion of a 7 year old who couldn't get their Barbie house.

They just laughed, which was both embarrassing and infuriating. Then I glanced at Sam, who was flicking through an Astronomy book thicker than Finn's skull, a look of utmost concentration on his face.

"He's cute. Like, a lot cute," Ellie commented.

"He sings. And plays guitar. And is the Quarter back-" Genie's telling her as we're walking, when I interrupt her with: "And also posts pictures of you and him making out and what not on Facebook, and tells the whole school we got to 'Second base' whatever the hell that is,"

"You're just annoyed because you love him but you don't want to, and you don't know what second base is," Genie points out.

"What is it!" I ask them, almost at boiling point.

"Ask him," Genie suggests.

"I have to go and get something from my locker," I announce, storming off in a manor too scarily alike to Rachel Berry's for my liking.

_1:25 p.m._

The locker halls are practically empty, because it's warm and everyone is outside. As I head to my locker, I round a corner, only to be confronted by...

"Oh hey there Barbie," Santana smiles sarcastically, and I throw it right back.

"I actually have a present for you. Your hair should definitely have some highlights, and I think I've found the _perfect_ colour,"

I frown, not knowing where the Latina is going, and then I _feel_ it. The blueberry scented slushee on my top, some on my jeans, and all in my hair. I bite on my lip, resisting the urge to put the sassy bitch on her ass as the slush drops from my hair and slides down my face and shoulders.

"Stay the _hell_ away from Britany, capeiche? Because if not, I's be giving you _a lot _more than a slushee facial. I'll do the whole treatment and you know's I will. So don't start this okay Barbie? It'll be a situation which you will lose control of _very_ easily," she does the whole sassy Latina thing with her fingers and her 'know's' and 'I be's'.

"You've made your point Santana. So why don't you take you and your bitchiness and go somewhere the fuck else?"

"Whatevers. See you in glee. You should get cleaned up," she smirks, turning on her heel and strutting away, "That stuff stains,"

I heave a massive sigh, looking down at myself.

And then, who should walk round the corner, but Sam Evans. He's wearing his Number 6 football shirt, and white shorts, which means he's going out onto the felid to practise.

I'm expecting him to smirk, and walk right past. But he leans on one of the lockers across from me, and takes in my new _blue_ appearance.

"Yes? Would you like something? You wanna take a picture? Put _that_ on Facebook too? Go on; please. Humiliate me further," I hold out my arms, feeling defeated then let them slap down to my sides again.

"Wow. Someone's glass is half empty today,"

"It really is," I slide onto the hard floor.

"I never took you as a pessimist,"

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly feeling optimistic right now,"

"God, you even manage to look hot covered in slushee," he crosses his arms and comes over.

"You have a really weird concept of hot," I frown at him.

He looks at me, and we both crack a grin.

"Come on then Fredricks," he offers me a hand, "Let's get you cleaned up,"

I just look up at him.

"Sorry, would you rather walk around school like a human blueberry?"

I choose normality, and accept Sam's hand. He leads me to the boys' gym/locker/shower room. There are a couple of sophomores in there, but he sends them right out.

Then I remember that I'm really quite mad at him, and he remembers that he's pissed me off, so we just stand there awkwardly until Sam breaks the silence.

"Look, I don't wanna make this at all uncomfortable, believe me, that's not what I want, but uh – well, you're gonna have to take your top off," he concludes, pointing at the the wet material and scratching the back of his head.

"Fine," I undo the belt around my waist, and then pull the top off over my head, dropping it to the floor.

I watch his eyes looking me over, and glance down at myself. Oh Jeez. The blue slushee had soaked through the thin material of my top, and actually stained my skin, sucessfully making me into a Na'vi speaking moron.

Sam gets me to lay down on one of the benches, and then dissapears for a minute. He returns, set with flannel and bodywash. He settles down, kneeling to my side, pouring some soap onto the flannel.

"I look like a fucking Avatar,"

Sam looks up at me from under a slightly wet fringe, a cute smile playing on his lips.

"Well, I happen to like that movie," he informs me, setting to work, rubbing in a small circular movement on the stained skin.

"I've never seen it,"

He stops short at that.

"Okay; for one night we're putting our stupid…whatever it is, aside, and you can come over and watch it,"

"Alright, deal. But seriously, you don't seem the…type to like that kinda stuff," I admit.

"Oh yeah. I'm totally into all that shit. I saw it 6 times in the Cinema, and pre-ordered the DVD,"

"You're a Dork," I observe.

"Yeah. And it's not just that either. I've got a giant ass 3D tv," he grins proudly.

"Alright for some," I mutter, although secretly I like this idea. At least, I do when he's being like this.

"Almost done, and then you can take a shower, I promise," Sam smiles, concentrating on my right hip.

As he rubs the flannel over it, I take a sharp intake of breath. Ouch.

He stops. "Is something wrong?" he asks, worried.

I feel nothing, so I shake my head, and he carries on. He goes over the same spot, and I sit up suddenly. It feels like someone is hitting a really new bruise, and that's insane, because Sam was nothing but gentle. I poke at the piece of skin, and feel a small bobbly bit; almost like a lump. It hurts. And it freaks me out. I motion for Sam to give me his hand, and the blonde boy complies.

"What does that feel like to you?" I ask, ignoreing the flicker of electricity that jolts through me when our skin makes contact. He knows it's hurting, so he slides his fingers over the questioned area, applying the lightest of pressure.

"It feels like, I don't know, like a lump or something,"

I blush, feeling embarassed.

"You should probaby get that checked out,"

I shake my head, and Sam's eyes follow me as I get up and peel my jeans off. Even my underwear is dyed blue. "I probably just hit it during Cheerio's practise or something," I shrug, thinking that maybe If I don't make a big fuss out of it it won't be a big deal. I fold up my jeans and place them on the bench, heading off to the shower room.  
>I try not to get water on my face because me without makeup on is not a good look. Considering that Sam could walk round the corner and see me totally naked, I almost shower in my underwear. Surprisingly he stays put. I wash my hair, and rinse myself off using the shower gel which smells like Sam. I turn off the shower, and wrap myswelf in one of the red towels provided, before grabbing my underwear and heading back out. Sam is just hitting one of the big red punch bags on the other side of the room. He looks kind of upset, so I don't disturb him. I dry off a little, sliding on my panties and towel drying my hair before wrapping the towel round me again. I go over to one of the mirrors which are fixed to wall, esspecially designed to so as the guys can check themselves out whilst working out. I check my makeup, which has stayed pretty much in tact, except my eyes are a little dark and smudged but I decide it looks cool. I glance over at Sam. He punches the bag really hard once more, then sighs, and puts his arms around it, leaning his forehead on the bag too. I feel like just running over to him and grabbing him into a <em>massive<em> hug, and cuddling into his chest. Instead, I walk over. When he turns around he does a double take. God knows why, but his guard is down, even I can tell. I decide to take advantage of that.  
>He turns right round, and looks at me for a minute, sighing. Then, to my surprise, he runs a finger down my arm and catches my hand in his. I look right into his eyes, and he only breaks it by saying 'come on', and leading me to to his locker.<p>

He opens it, and takes out his football shirt, with the big 6 on the back. I put on my bra, and slip his shirt over my head.

"You know something is wrong when a girl wears your football shirt better than you," he laughs slightly, "It looks really hot actually,"

I grin, tugging at the hem of the shirt. It's oversized, and comes to near the top of my thigh. We sit on a bench, facing eachother. We're quiet for a while, both staring at the wooden bench. I watch Sam trace patterns on the wood with long, somewhat delicate fingers.

"You have really big hands," I comment quietly, breaking the silence.

He turns them over once or twice, studying them. "I have _normal_ sized hands for a boy. You just have small hands because you're a girl,"

"Actually, that is very stereotypical of you Sam! I _don't_ have small hands," I study my own at arms length, "I have quite big hands for a girl,"

He laughs, obviously finding my concern amusing. "No you don't; here," he holds his own hand up for me to place mine against. When I do I feel the same jolt of electricity, which makes my whole body wash through with tingles.

"Oh," I mumble, embarassed, as his hands totally own mine.

He laughs, and slides his fingers through mine. When I glance up, he aviods my eye contact.

"You should really get that bump on your stomach checked out," he points our intertwined fingers at his shirt.

I shift uncomfortably. "As I said; it's probably nothing,"

"And you're probably right! I'm not saying you aren't. But you're freaking out, I can see it. Wouldn't you rather have your mind at rest?" he tries to get me to look at him. His words make sense. I look up, our faces almost touching. Then he drops his gaze down, and back up again.  
>"And also, it's kinda freaking me out too," he lets the smallest smile tug at the corner of his mouth.<p>

I allow myself to smile, because the thought that he might actually care makes me feel all warm and gushy inside. "Fine. I'll go,"

He grins victoriously, then it fades and he takes both my hands, staring as he flops them around. I let him because I can tell that he's about to open up _big time_. The way he has to keep physical contact, and looks anywhere but me.

He takes a deep breath, and starts: "Look, you're right. You're hot, and new, and I'm the QuarterBack, and it just seemed right. I don't know why I thought being an asshole would make you like me, but the other girls just think it's typical. They don't really care about personality. They just know that I'm the QuarterBack, with the sexy abs and surfer dude hair, and immense guitar skills. I guess I felt insecure. Stupid I know because I'm a guy, but the fact that you didn't go for that kinda knocked me down a peg. I know I behaved like a _total_ douche, and I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that. But you know how- how it is, with the whole repuation thing," he stutters and takes a breath, "It matters. It's like, if you put one foot out of place that's it. This is high school, and you don't get another chance. I was a complete dick. And…and that's not me," then he stops, his cheeks flushed, looking like he's afraid he's said too much already.  
>There's more to him. I know it. This has proved to me that he's <em>not<em> another stereotypical asshole jock. I just need to keep chipping away that wall which he situates himself behind. And to get, you have to give.

"I know what you mean. Being new is hard. I moved her to live with my Dad, step-mom and step-brother. I moved here, all the way from California, but I don't tell people that. You know what the sereotypes are. Goody-goody, spoilt, bitchy LA girls. And they'd probably be right," I breathe deeply, forcing myself not to cry, "I did somethings I wasn't proud of, and after the past few months I'd had, I couldn't deal with anymore whispers or stares. So, I came here as Annie Fredricks, for a new start,"

We both look up at each other, Sam's eyes peircing mine.

"Kind of…like a mask?"

Oh my Jeez. This can be one of two things: he can see straight into my soul with those gorgeous eyes of his. _Or_, he's doing the _exact_ same thing.

I lean over and whisper: "_Exactly_ like a mask," his hair tickling my cheek as I pull away.  
>I pick up my clothes on the way out, leaving him to think about our conversation. I'm scared that he'll realise we'd just opened up to eachother, and he let me see his non-asshole side, and that it freaks him out enough that he just starts being an even bigger ashole. Then my whole plan just back fires.<p>

The bell has already gone, and I'm already like, 20 minutes late to lesson. I hurry to my locker, and shove my slushee covered clothes in there, then make my way to last class. Personal education. Basically sex ed. Not that we get taught anything unless Miss. Holiday is here. I hesitate by the door, considering how much of a slut I look. All I'm wearing is Sam's football shirt which _barely_ covers my ass, and black high heeled ankle boots. I make a mental note to bring spare clothes with me for enevitable future happenings. Then I take a deep breath and replace my mask. I am hot Cheerleader/apparent lesbian, and then I can push the door open.

"Miss. Fredricks, would you care to tell me why you're 20 minutes late to class?" Mrs. Rupert asks dissaprovingly, looking me up and down.

I smile politely and say: "no, not really,"

She grumbles something all teacher-y and grunts while I take my seat next to Puck.

"If I'm not mistaken Barbie, that _is_ Sam Evans football shirt. And you're wearing blue panties,"

"In a nutshell; Santana thinks that I'm trying to get on Brit or vise versa, so she poured slush all over me. Sam just pointed me in the right direction,"

"She shower room?" he asks skeptically.

"Sam wasn't _in_ the shower with me! He stayed out by his locker, and then lent me the shirt okay?"

"You sure he didn't take a little peak?"

I throw Puck a death glare, and he holds his hands above his head before sinking into his chair. I breathe out a sigh.

Sam Evans p.o.v

'And…and that's not me' I replay the scene in my head, and mentally kick myself _again_. Nice one. I dropped my mask, and totally opened up to her. Smooth. Another thing: she's going to show up at glee, wearing _my_ football shirt. I mean, it could be anyone's shirt, except that everyone knows my team number is 6. And if they don't, someone who does know will point it out. This is where the rumours will kick up even more. Esspecially since everyone knows she 'said hello to Third base' on Saturday night. _Why_ did I say that?

"Sam," I jump at the sound of my own name.

I look around, and see Mercedes. She's sitting to my right, on the table next to me.

"What's up?" I whisper back.

"Have you heard?"

I frown, no recodnition on what she could be getting at. I hope I'm not about to hear a rumour or anything. I don't like rumours, and I know that Mercedes is one of the biggest gossip's around, no offence to her or anything. Mercedes is nice, but is quite prior to the gossip which is spread around school.

"Mr. Schue is going to get us to do Rocky Horror!" she grins excitedly.

"I've never seen it," her face drops, so I hurry to to redeem myself, "But I have heard of it. Isn't it like, really rude though?" I ask.  
>According to my Mom it's all transvestites in latex and maids in uniforms and sparkly hats.<p>

"Not _rude_ as such. Just risque. But you better watch it quick because you'll be playing Rocky," she arches an eyebrow.

"Right, well, thanks," I smile, not sure why she raised her eyebrow at me like that. As if she knows something I don't, or she's in on something I'm not. Which is normally the case.

I stare at the book in front of me. Silent reading for half an hour. I _hate_ English. It's reading and writing; the two things I'm worst at. Obviously when I transferred and my Mom had to fill out all of the forms, she wrote down that I'm dyslexic. But they don't actually _do_ a lot. What can they do? The teachers go easy on me, I guess, but from where I'm standing that's not help, that's sympathy. And it makes me feel even more dumb. I start to get a headache, and the words on the page begin to jumble.  
>After I've made the same mistake 5 times and the headache doesn't go away, I decide to bail. I grab my books and shuffle up to front, mumbling something to the teacher who nods with that horribly patronising sympathy smile. I escape quickly, and go to my locker. Once I've placed all my books inside, I head to the gym. Coach Beiste will kill me if there's a mess in here. I fold up Annie's towel's, putting them into the laundry basket, then go to the punch bag. I need to get in focus. Look in the mirror; what do I see? Sam Evans; Jock, Bieber look-a-like, girl magnet. Aw, who am I kidding? I guess I'm not <em>ugly<em> as such. I've never been acused of that, but does anyone really like the way they look? Give or take counting Santana. And everyone in glee club says: 'I'm in love with myself and I'd never change a thing' but I don't believe that. For me, it's my lips. I act as if it doesn't bother me; I'm lying. I get really pissed off when people call me 'Lady Lips' or 'Trouty Mouth', those 2 being the obvious favourites. But it's not like anyone really bothers to get to know me. So much for judging a book by it's cover. I step right up to the mirror, examining my face from all angles. Yep, it's true; guys are insecure too. They worry just as much as girls. Well most guys do. I do.  
>Normally when I start to worry, I just tell myself that I'm the QuarterBack, and where I walk, there will be girls staring, and then I feel better. I smile, flexing my biceps, which have admittedly gotten better since I started on the weights and punch bag.<br>I got a facebook inbox the other day from this senior girl, which was about 3 paragraphs long, just telling me that I'm perfect and hot. It was weird. I've never been appreciated like that. Maybe in peoples minds, but no one had the confidence to actually say it to me. Not until then anyway. I'm not gonna lie, I felt so good about myself. I pulled a senior. The hottest girl in the senior year, too. Jennifer Bailey. We got to talking, and she's actually really nice. I might be getting a job in her Dad's new resteraunt when it's open, which will be good. Still, this inbox: my abs are amazing, my arms are huge, my hair is sexy, my lips are pouty and kissable. Ego boost much. I wonder if Annie thinks I'm hot.

"Oh my God," I close my eyes. I actually need to stop thinking about her. This is getting stupid.

I shove my letterman jacket into the red locker, and close it, heading to the choir room.  
>My guitar sits in the corner next to Puck's, and music is the one thing besides Na'vi that I can read well. I go over, pick it up, and start plucking at the strings. Rumour has it that Mr. Schuester is setting a solo project. Might aswell get ahead. I guess I've been practising so much with the guys for our late welcome to Annie, and with football I don't actually know that much about what's going on at home. Ridiculous, I know. I mean, I didn't even know that Stacy was going away on a school summer camp thing until 2 days after she'd gone. It's for like, 3 weeks, which is ages. And she may be annoying, but she's also persistantly cute and bossy, and has this idea in her head that she has authority over me, which is funny. So on the whole, I'll miss her, yes. But the good news is that the number for Annie is just about finished, so hopefully we'll get to do that soon. Through the soft tune I hear footsteps, and I turn around.<p>

"Hey Sam, sorry, I didn't see you there," Mr. Schue apologises, as he puts his bag on the piano, and starts taking out sheets of paper.

"S'okay . I was just practising. I decided to cut the last half hour of English," I explain, resting both arms across my guitar.

"Why?"

isn't just another nosy teacher, so I take a deep breath.  
>"I'm dyslexic. Normally I put up with it, but today has put me in a really pissy mood, and all of that silent reading did my head in, so here I am. I know that Glee doesn't start until 3, but I'll leave if you've got papers to mark or something," I shrug, letting it all out in one big breath.<p>

It's sort of Annie who's put me in a pissy mood. She has the wierdest effect on me. I don't like it. Esspecially with what she left me with earlier. Last think I want is to be getting myself in knots worrying about that bump on her stomach. It's irritating. Like and itch I can't reach to scratch.

Mr. Schue is looking at me, frowning. "Is that why you couldn't tie your shoe laces?"

I nod, ducking my head in embarassment. What 17 year old guy can't tie his own shoe laces? That should've been something I learnt in kindergarten. I didn't. I was badass, and ran around with them flying everywhere. I lost count of the number of times my teachers would shout at me for leaving them undone. I would try and tell them: "I can't do it!" and they would reply: "Don't be stupid boy, it's easy,". I'd get so angry. I really couldn't do it. It wasn't until I was 13 or so that they actually discovered there was a reason to my struggles.

"Sam, dyslexia is nothing to be ashamed of!" Mr. Schue comes over, taking a seat next to me.

"Are you kidding? It's a _learning dissability_! It's just a posh word for saying that I'm more stupid than everyone else! And even if I try I can't excel. And I'm trying. I try really hard," I keep my eyes on my hands.

Mr. Schue sighs. "Come on buddy. You're usually so cool and together. You're the QuarterBack! You've had girlfriends. You know, you've changed a lot since you've been here,"

I shake my head, laying my guitar on the seat behind me.  
>"No, I'm not…<em>different<em>. Well, I am, but just not- I just-" I stumble over my words and breathe slowly, "Believe me, I'm still as _dorky_ and _goofy_ as I was when I started here. Only difference is I've learnt how to control it around other people,"

"Sam," Mr. Schue leans forward, "What you're saying to me is that you act differently around people because you're ashamed of who you are. That's not what Glee club is about. That's not what _you're_ about. You should never be anyone but yourself. People liked you just the way you were. I know it sounds really _cliché_. Plus I think you'd get on _a lot _better with Annie if you did that too," Mr. Schue looks at me with a knowing smile.

"Is it _that_ obvious?" I groan, perplexed.

"Only to the trained eye," he assures me.

"I don't know what to do. She thinks I'm total ass most of the time," I admit.

"Annie isn't the sort of girl who'll be content with a little bit on the side. She'll see the hint, but won't take it. You've gotta go all out. Sweet 'n' Sour. You gotta find the balance," Mr. Schue claps me on the back.

I guess all of this does make sense for Annie's type of person.

"Thanks Mr. Schue," I smile at the teacher.

"No problem buddy. And hey I was thinking you could do that number you and the guys have been working on for her on Monday?"

I nod, grinning now as the bell goes and all the other Glee kids start to file in.

Brittany and Santana walk in first.

Santana does _not_ look happy.

I just look at them.

Brittany surprisingly comes and takes the seat to my right.

"Hey Sam," she smiles, ruffling my hair.

"What's up Brit?" I ask, paying no attention as Santana takes a seat 2 rows behind us.

"Is that a trick question?" the ditzy blonde questions critically.

"Nope," I hold my hands up above my head, "no tricks. Not smart enough for that,"

"Me either," she beams wide, and high fives me.

It makes me feel not so alone. Brit is pretty cool.

"Santana's being so weird but it still turns me on," she mumbles, glancing down at her hands.

I turn, and look at the latina, who's sitting there, legs and arms crossed, scowling.

"Shut the guppy mouth," she spits, and I just smirk.

The girl has some serious sexual frustration going on. With Puck obsessed with his new Cheerio, (who is a damn fine piece of ass, I'll point out) and me and her breaking up, it's obvious that she's not getting any. She'll probably fix that sharpish though. She's probably hooked up with half the guys in school based on fear alone, the same way that Puckerman gets free lunch money every day.

I sit back and watch the door: Finn, Mike, Tina, Mercedes, Artie, Puck, Lauren, Quinn and Rachel all flow in, in their two's and three's. No Annie.  
>After 10 minutes Mr. Schue makes a point of asking, but everyone just looks at one another, confused. I glance at Santana, who's looking even more evil than usual, with that 'I'm the Bitch' smirk pastered across her face. She's obviously pleased as punch that Annie isn't here, and I wanna know why.<p>

"She was in class, but I came straight here. I never saw her after that," Puck pipes up from the back, shrugging.

I sigh, sinking into my chair.

6:00 p.m.

Home.

Glee went really slow. We talked about Rocky Horror. Mr. Schue didn't say too much about it; just told me to check out the movie. And all the girls were giving me this really dirty/smug smile, which made me feel seriously uncomfortable. Apart from Santana, who just sat there looking bored.

I get home, and drop my backpack.

"oHonniefpHoney, where's your shirt?" is the first thing Mom asks.

I close my eyes momentarily, then answer:  
>"I must've left it in my locker or something,"<p>

"Okay, just make sure you have it home tomorrow. Those football shirts cost money you know!" she raises her eyebrows, and slides dinner at me.

"Yeah, I know," I mumble, whilst shovelling down the food as fast as I can.

When I've finished, bareing my thoughts from earlier in mind, I go upstairs, and walk into Stevie's room.

"What's up man?"

"Sam! Don't just walk into my room dude! It's not cool!" the 8 year old shouts, scowling.

"Whatever. You missing Stacy yet?" I ask, flopping down on his Lego Batman bed sheets.

"Hell no! Don't you notice how Mom and Dad are like..not stressed?"

"Parents are always stressed. It's their job," I argue.

"Whatever. Where are all your girlfriends then Sam?" he asks, giving me this cheeky little kids grin.

"That's none of your punk ass business!"

"You mean you got dumped?"

Damn! The kids 8 years old and he's smarter than me.

"_No!_ I dumped Quinn, remember? And Santana was just…" I trail off, not really knowing how to explain the phraze 'friends with benefits' or 'social boosting' to an 8 year old.

"The boobs?"

I let my jaw drop.

"What? No? Why aren't you still playing with your Star Wars collection?"

"The girl across the street… Well, she got them out the other day. I was just using my binoculars that you gave me and-"

"Stevie, I gave those to you to watch…birds and stuff, not across the street girl! That's sick," Sick as in Genius… Nancy is totally hot.

At half 6 I escape to my own bedroom, and get into an intense marathon round of Black Op's with Puck and Mike.

"Ha!" I shout down the mic at Puck, who I just shot, _twice_.

"I'll kick your ass Evans, and you know I will,"

"Uhuh, that's if you can prise yourself away from Genie long enough to do it," I reply.

I'm getting some typical shit which Puck is spewing, when I become aware of a weird noise. I pause the game, and Mike and Puck grumble at me through the headphones. I listen intently and hear…

"Oh my God,"

I curse silently as I hear moans of pleasure coming from my older sisters room in the attic, right above me.

"What the hell is that?"

"My sister," I say through gritted teeth.

"Woah, I thought she was like, 6-"

"21"

"Damn. That's some crazy fucking shit right there. It's not even 7 and she's getting some…"

"You're just jealous," I respond to Puck.

"Dude, I need to meet your sister,"

I just shake my head, and press resume, trying to get rid of all the thoughts of why Annie didn't show…

No, I haven't stopped thinking about her all day…

Annie's p.o.v

3:05 p.m.

I go to my locker, and grab my plastic bag, filling it with all my wet clothes. I'm just about to head off to glee, when I feel my phone start to vibrate (it's tucked into the side of my underwear). At the risk of flashing everyone my blue panties, I take it out, and press the accept button.

"Hello?"

"Annie, we need you to come home immediately today please," I hear my Father's voice on the other end.

"Well, can't it wait? I have glee now,"

"No, right now Annie, it's very important," he's using that 'I'm very serious' tone.

I sigh, perplexed as the phone clicks and my Dad hangs up.

So, things in the house have been awkward since the whole 'getting completely wasted at the Rachel Berry party and letting Sam bring me home smashed, then asking Blaine in front of Janie if he'd heard me having sex at all' thing. In fact, no one has spoken since Saturday morning. Except me and Blaine.

I grab all of my stuff, and shuffle out of school, to the car.

I bang the door on perpose when I get home, then run into the laundry room and empty my bag into the wash basket.

"Annie!" I hear Janie cry from the living room.

I brace myself, and go in.

"What on _earth_ are you wearing?" Dad exclaims, clearly shocked by my attire.

"I spilled something down me, and one of my friends lent me a top," I lie.

"A _top_? Jesus Christ Annie, you're barely decent!" Janie rambles, then Dad inturrupts her by saying: "That's a _boys_ football shirt. I can tell,"

"Well, _yes_ Sherlock it is but-"

"But nothing! Are you meaning to tell me that you walked around _school_ like that?"

I huff at my Dad. "Well yes but-"

"I told you we should've sent her to Carmel. The standards are _so_ much better," Janie says as if I'm not even in the room.

"Oh really? You wouldn't know anything! You've never stepped foot inside McKinley!" I shout, enraged.

"Can we all calm down, please," I hear Blaine's voice behind me, and I roll my eyes.

He's always the peace maker. Then: "Why are you wearing Sam's football shirt?"

"I'll explain _later_," I widen my eyes at the boy, giving him my 'listen to me or I'll kill you _in your sleep_' look. He senses the tone.

"Why did you pull us both from our Glee rehursals?"

"Your behaviour the other day was unacceptable," Dad starts.

I frown at Blaine, who shrugs back, equally confused.

"Coming home so drunk," Janie clarifies.

"Now, we've never really had a lot of rules," Dad carries on, "But that was crossing a line. You were both a mess, and the whole situation was potentially very dangerous,"

"And so we reached a conculsion for punishment," Janie takes over again. It's clear that she pushed Dad into this. He would've been fine with just a warning. I've heard all his rebel stories from the past. But oh no, this woman has to take it a step further. "You're both grounded, until next Wednesday,"

"You're obviously aloud to attend school/glee related things. Now go to your rooms, and think about your actions," Dad finishes.

My jaw drops. _Grounded? _I've never been grounded in my entire life! I mean, it's not really like I go anywhere, but _still_. Grounded? Blaine just shakes his head as if to say 'Leave it', then leads me up to our rooms.

I get in the shower, and pull the curtain round whilst Blaine sits on the toilet seat demanding answers.

"I got slushee'd by that _bitch_ Santana," I growl.

"Why?"

"Because Brittany, bless her ditzyness, came up to me at my locker yesterday and kissed me out of the blue! Which then kicked up the rumours from Saturday night, spurred on by Jacob's stupid _blog_," I groan.

"Ah, yes. I've heard. And seen,"

I poke my head around the shower curtain and glare.

"What? It's _everywhere! _You know that you're half of Dalton's wank material now?"

"Fantastic. You spent the night making out with _girls_," I scrub myself down. 'So did you though' I think to myself.

"I know. It's weird,"

"A good weird or a bad weird?" I quiz.

"In truth?" he laughs, "I don't really remember. But when I kissed Rachel.." he voice sounds awestruck.

"mm," I encourage.

"It…it felt good,"

I stop the shower. Mostly for effect.

"It felt _good_?" I stick my arm out., demanding a towel, astonished.

"Yeah, it did," he replies calmly, handing me a warm towel which I wrap myself in before pulling the shower curtain back and stepping over the side of the bath.

"Well that's new,"

He nods.

"Kurt didn't take that too well did he?" I guess, eyeing my brothers tired expression.

When Blaine shakes his head, I go over and give him a big wet, just-out-of-the-shower hug, which he returns greatfully.

Jeez, it's all going down in the sexuality department.


	11. Chapter 11

Okay, again it's been a while, and I'm really sorry, I was on holiday (and I'm now all tanned).  
>Anyways, this is quite different. It goes in to Annie's feelings, deeply, and what she's really thinking. It adresses quite a few issues.<br>Thanks to Makesomenoise, greeneyedbaby,missberryfan, and MyNameIsProngs. Your reveiws are awesome :)

R&R!

I don't own glee unfortunatly. But I do own the tickets to go and see Glee 3D ;D

Chapter 11.

Friday 10th May.

I push my way through the crowds of McKinley, thinking of how desperately I don't want to be here. Still, life goes on, and I make my way to Health Class. I bump into the Puckster on the way to the nurses office, as that's where he goes whenever he's got a Math class.

"Yo Fredricks, come and find me free period," he shouts after me.

"Where?"

"Gym!"

"Kay!" I yell back.

In Health class, Brittany sits next to me. I can't exactly tell her not to, can i? That would be 1. Incredibly rude, and 2. Really mean. This is Britts, you can't do stuff like that to her. I heard someone say 'silly girl' to her one time, and she burst out crying.

"Hey," she smiles, and I return it.

"So, on my way up here, I ran into this guy, who said he wanted to 'surf and turf' me. Isn't that like a cocktail they give you at surfing places?" she asks, putting her bag down.

"No honey," I shake my head.

She makes a sad face, and gets out her notepad. I watch her instead of the teacher, who is going on like the guy out of Mean Girls. It's all "Don't have sex. You will get pregnant, and die," and that sort of thing. She takes out a big pack of pens, of all colours, and picks a pink pen. She writes 'Santana, Brittany, Annie' and draws love hearts next to each name, and a smiley face, which makes me laugh on the inside.

When she's finished, she notices me watching her, and smiles. Then she grasps my hand under the table. And I'm not sure quite what do about that, so I just let her.  
>"You're a really nice person," she squeezes my fingers, "I'm going to tell Santana that, and then I'm <em>sure<em> that she'll like you too,"  
>Once again, I can't say 'No, Britt, you can't talk about me to Santana' because that will lead to many awkward questions, which I'm pretty sure will confuse Brittany. I just squeeze her fingers back.<p>

I'm re-doing my lipgloss in the girls bathroom after class finishes. The door opens, and in walks Santana. She barges straight up to me, and I know what's coming..  
>"I warned you bitch, to stay away, and you couldn't even do that could you? Have you got some weird, excessive need to have a reputation at this school? To be the one who doesn't give a fuck and all that bullshit?"<p>

"God no, that's exactly what I don't want. I just wanted to be normal," I tell her.

"Yeah, you're doing a great job of showing it!"

"I don't want a fight Santana-"

"Obviously not,"

"I'm not interested in Brittany," I say, lowering my voice, "Not in that way,"

"Don't lie to me! Someone _saw_ you and her holding hands under the desk in Health class not 5 minutes ago! I thought that's what I liked about you Annie. The way that you give it upfront and straight out. But no, you just lie! Give it up, because you can't keep up with the excuses. Not when the truth is right there,"

"You're just being jealous!"

"No, I'm protecting my best friend,"

"You're _over-protecting _her, and I know why," I say quietly.

"Don't you dare go putting labels on me Fredricks,"

"You talk about lies, and you're lying to yourself right now,"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replies, looking uncomfortable.

"Sure you don't,"

"I swear Fredricks, the next time.." she shoves me hard in the shoulder, and walks out, her Cheerio's skirt swishing from side to side, leaving just me and myself in the empty bathroom.

I kick one of the cubicle doors so hard that the plastic on the lock cracks when it hits the other side with a deafening slam. And then I hoist myself up onto one of the surfaces, and bury my face in my hands. What am I doing? I can't have fucked up my one and only fresh start. Not already. Can I?

"Annie?"

I glance up quickly, and see Quinn. God, she keeps showing up everywhere aswell! I drop my eyeline, "Hey Quinn," I greet the girl indifferently.

"Stop it!" she yells.

"What?" I ask, taken aback.

"This whole awkward thing! I hate it! Just stop!"

I sigh, as she takes my hand and pulls me down and into her arms.  
>"I'm sorry, I'm just..this? It kinda freaks me out," I admit quietly.<p>

"Join the club," she sighs.  
>Then she checks around, and drags me into the disabled toilet, hitting the dryer on the way. "What're you-?" I go to ask, before she cuts me off with a kiss. I break away surprised. She gazes back, steadily, and damn her eyes.. I pull her forward, moulding my lips to hers again, and grabbing her gentally by her hips. She pushes me into the wall, and I grab the silver bar below me. She giggles into my mouth, as I run my hands up her abdominan. I feel her shiver slightly as I do, and when I get to her chest, I stop. She nods, and I continue. I've never felt up another girl. But Quinn is so..gorgeous, and disirable to both girls and guys. I kneed her chest with one hand, and she moans a little. It's one of the hottest things I've ever heard in my life. I now understand the reason of the hand dryer. She moves her hands down my waist, and over my jean pockets, settling there. I step to next level, wondering how far she'll let me go. I guess it's all trial and error, I think to myself as my fingers slide up the inside of her thigh, and underneith her skirt. Her breath hitches a little, but she makes no effort to stop me whatsoever. I continue, feeling the heat between her legs creeping up my hand when I finally get there. I push my thumb down, and she groans, her mouth open against mine. I smile, recapturing her lips, and continuing to rub, really lightly, but faster. She begins panting in time, and I grab one leg with the hand I'm not using, turn her around, and force her against the wall, in the same same position I was in not 5 seconds ago. She copies me too, grabbing onto the bar with a sweaty palm, her mouth open, letting out the moans that are bubbling up in her throat. I push down, one final, hard time, and she groans, her back arching in extasy. A Quinn orgasm is the sexiest. I grin, as she closes her eyes, coming down from her high. She wears her cross, and she's in the celibacy club, and everyone just thinks of her as the picture perfect teenage dream. Aah, but Miss. Fabray is far from, and me and Puck are the only ones who know it. It gives me an evil satisfaction, knowing that I didn't even need to get her drunk to get into her pants. She's got it bad.<p>

"I've never done anything sexual in a school bathroom before," I say, looking round.

"Me either," she breathes.

We part awakrdly after spending the next half an hour of what was supposed to be Math time, making out. Some girls came in, luckily enough I'd snuck out to turn off the dryer, but they started talking about Sam, Finn and Puck. It was funny, and I had to push a finger against Quinn's lips to stop her from laughing. Although I nearly burst out in giggles when one of the girls says she hears Puck has got a really small dick, and he's just a badass to cover up the fact that he's an insecure little girl. 'She slept with him and regrets it' Quinn whispers in my ear, and I nod in agreement.

I go, as promised, to meet Puck in the Gym during free period. He's already in there, with Finn and Sam, and I shake off the fact that I can still feel Quinn's lips on my neck, and launch into the story of Santana cornering me in the bathroom.

"It's just Santana. Seriously. She's all talk and no go," Sam shrugs, wiping a towel over his face and going over to the weights.

"Yeah, she's all coffee and no omelette," Puck nods.

I raise an eyebrow at Finn, whose eyebrows just knit together, and he mumbles: "Dude, that makes no sense..."

"I'm hot, and Jewish. It doesn't have to make sense,"

"Stop chatting shit Puckerman," I roll my eyes, and the comment earns a few laughs.

He evils me, but I barely notice because Sam starts doing weights and I never realised how huge his biceps are. I mean, not unnaturally so, but enough that there are big veins running down them, which bulge along with the muscle every time he lifts the bar.

"You're drooling," Puck whispers, making me jump, and close my mouth which I didn't realise was hanging open. Well that's embarrassing.

"You've got..what's _that_?" Finn reaches up from his bench, and rubs his thumb over my neck. When he pulls away, he has pink sparky stuff on it.

"How did you get lipgloss _there_?" Puck asks, peering closely at it.

I turn away, blushing furiously. Quinn.

"I don't know, must've just slipped or something," I say, scrubbing it off.

None of them look as if they believe me, which is just great.

Glee Club  
><span>I get here early, and go to stand by the Piano. Finn walks in and smiles at me.

"What's up?" I ask, smiling back.

"Not a lot. Just girls," I see his eyes flicker over to Rachel.

"Me too," I admit, "Well, girls and Sam,"

"There's no difference between the two," he comments, and I smack his shoulder.

"You're just jealous of his Beiber-licious,"

Finn rolls his eyes, and I laugh, reaching up to hug him and his tallness.  
>"Don't hate Sam,"<p>

"You hate Sam,"

I make a face. "I don't know. He just confuses me. And not to mension Quinn. And Brittany,"

"Yeah, I've heard all about girls and their friendships. They're weird. But still, Brittany doesn't have it in her to confuse anyone. She spends most of her time _being_ confused," he reminds me.

"Who's confused?" Brittany questions, skipping in.

"You are, sweetie,"

"That's true," she agrees, hugging me.

I pray to God that Santana doesn't walk in right now, because that would mean my head on a stick, and definitely wouldn't do a lot for my case, considering I'm pleading innocent. Then Puck joins us, wrapping his arms around me, and letting his hands take their place firmly on my ass. I wind my hand around his arms, feeling the muscle. Damn.

"S'up Blondie's? And Finn,"

"How's it hanging Puckerman?"

"To the floor," he winks when I look up at him, a giggle bubbling up in my throat.

"What's hanging to the floor?" Brittany asks clulessly.

"Nothing hot stuff, let's go sit down," Puck leads Britt off after squeezing my ass and grinning at me. Finn and I follow.

Enter Sam, Mike and Artie. They sit on the row in front of me and Finn, joining Puck. Quinn and Tina come in too, and Mercedes and Rachel.  
>Quinn takes the seat next to me, on the other side of Finn. Tina, Mercedes and Rachel take the three remaining seats at the back. Santana is last to enter. She takes a seat next to Brittany, who's next to Sam, but not before throwing me that Bitch smirk which means she's got the upper hand and she knows it. Ugh; I'm like her bitch. She tells me to stay away from Brittany… She says jump, I say how high Miss. Lopez? And fucking curtsey.<p>

Mr. Schue sets us our Solo's, saying it can be anything from our favourite songs, to how we're feeling. And then he informs us of something more exciting.

"Guys, we're going to do an actual musical," Mr. Schue announces. Everyone cheers. "Rocky Horror. I'm thinking Brad and Janet will go to Rachel and Finn," and they both agree, despite post breakup awkwardness.

"Mr. Schue, I'd like to play Franknfurter," Mercedes says a little nervously after Kurt declines. "I mean, it's my dream to play a lead role, and I'd be all kindsa cray sexy in that outfit," which earns her a few cat calls and 'whoop's'.

Mr. Schue agrees, and then turns to Sam. "Sam, I want you to play the role of the Creature,"

"From the Black Lagoon…?" Sam questions as clulessly as Brittany earlier.

"Rocky," I correct him.

"He's like the Frankenstein character but Blonde," Quinn cuts it.

"You'll kill the part," I turn back to Sam, looking at him dreamily, and acting like that deliberately in front of Quinn, "He's cute just like you,"

Sam smirks, and Quinn turns away.

"Better start working on those abs," Santana crosses her arms.

"Are you kidding me? You could cut glass with these babies. I got no problem showing off my body," he informs me, with a wink.

I smile. Of course he doesn't.

"Now, we're a little short on female roles, so we'll have to double up on Columbia's and Magenta's,"

"It's standard practise on Broadway, it'll preserve your voices," Rachel states.

"I'd like to preserve _you_. In a jar. In my basement," Merecedes says, and everyone laughs except Rachel. And Sam, but he's concentrating on the small book he's holding in his hands. Oh my God, he's so cute.

"Well guys, it's looks like we've got ourselves a show!" We all woop, and clap.

After Glee, me and Quinn linger around for a bit. I know I'm grounded, and I should be getting home straight away, but I doubt Blaine will grass me up to Janie.  
>I knew she was going to ask me about last night. I was upset; Dad and Janie blanked me all night, and didn't make me dinner either, and then at about half past 9, Janie started again. Talking to Dad about my behaviour, and whether I should be sent to a counceller or something, as if I wasn't even there. I snapped, so fed up of it, and after I screamed 'You're not my Mom, so stop acting like it!' Dad hit me in the back of my head. Hard enough to give me a headache. Blaine stood there in shock for a few seconds, as did I, before running past him, up the stairs, and into my bedroom. I cried my eyes out in front of my full lenth mirror for a whole hour. Finally Blaine knocked on my door at 11 o'clock. I ignored him, and fell into bed, scrolling down my contacts. I almost deleted Rachel, Mercedes, and Kurt as I went past them, still angry about what they'd said after the House Party. My thumb hovered over Quinn's name, and I finally pressed call. As soon as she picked up, I put the phone down, chewing my lip. When she called back, I cleared my throat and told her I must've pocket dialed her. That was complete bullshit because my phone is a brick, and she knows it.<p>

"So, why did you call me last night?" she inquires, head down, watching the floor.

Just as I open my mouth she interjects with 'and don't you dare utter a word along the lines of pocket dial, or accidentally' because your phone is about 10 years old.'

I huff. "I guess…I wanted to hear your voice," I reply hesitantly.

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know Quinn! Why did you let me put my hands up your skirt in the girls room today?" I snap. "I just..my emotions are all mixed up right now, and I can't explain the tingly feeling I get when we kissed. And don't say it was the alcohol because I was more than willing to blame it on that but it just wasn't the reason and today in that bathroom proved it. And I'm not gay because of Sam, and-" then I realise what I'm saying. I feel the same about Sam..and I fancy Sam..I think. Possibly. Sure, it's in the 'I have an overwhelming urge to punch you in the face whenever you open your mouth', but I'm still attracted to him none the less. "Oh my God," I glance up at the ceiling, coming to a complete stand-still.

Quinn takes one of my hands, holding in both of hers, and says softly, "Sexuality isn't set in stone Annie. Where would we be without all of our teen angst? It's normal-"

"_Normal_? Are you feeling what I'm feeling Quinn? How can you be so calm about it?" I wonder, my voice slightly panicky.

"Because someone has to be and that somebody obviously isn't you," she replies, her voice cold.

"No, you're right, it isn't! What the hell are we supposed to do?"

"I'm calm Annie, but I don't know all the answers. You're forgetting that I'm new to this too. Yes, I'm feeling what you're feeling. Well, I'm pretty sure of it anyway. But all I know is that I like your company, and when we kissed it felt good, and we'll cross the bridges when we come to them okay?"

I nod, and allow her to pull me into a hug, wrapping my arms around her neck, and burying my face into her shoulder.

"We'll sort it out okay? I promise,"

She kisses my head, and holds me gentally until my strength returns.

_Saturday 11__th__ May._

I didn't sleep last night. Not at all. I sat up, fretting about Quinn, and going over eveything Rachel and Mercedes had said. And then Santana.

Now, I lay in the bath, and think back on Sam, my hand automatically going to the lump on my stomach. It's tiny. But what if it is something really bad?

What if Quinn wants something out of me? What _does_ she want out of me? Out of our feelings for each other? What if people found out? Rumours are one thing..but the actual truth? Look at Kurt! He gets shoved into lockers everyday, and slushied in the face. But can I lie to myself? I'm not 100% sure of anything yet. It might be a faze. I mean look at me and Sam.

Sam..i don't know what I think about that boy. And it frustrates me! A part of me thinks that when I was drunk, I opened myself up to my true feelings. About him. And that's why we got together at that party. But it must've been the alcohol for him. He hasn't said anything different has he?

And what about Brittany and Santana? She's stopping me from having friends, because she's worried I want to make a move on Britt. She's such a hypocrite! Saying about labels, and having a go at me. She knows exactly how I feel. Warring with myself, and questioning my sexuality.

That's when I notice the razor on the side of the bath. Breath shaking, I pick it up, and take off the plastic cover. I draw it, slowly across the skin at the top of my forearm, just underneith my elbow. The pain is there for a few seconds, sharp. But then it fades, and I watch the blood roll off of my wet skin, mixing with the droplets of water. It's disturbingly satifying, and I do it again, this time making a mark just below the last one. I do this unil there are 5 clear marks down my arm, ending before my wrist, so they can be easily covered. There's a knock on the door, and Blaine says: "Annie, can I come in?"

It's normal for him to come in while I'm showering or bathing, because he sits away from me, facing the wall and it's a brotherly sisterly thing to do. I don't mind having him in here, and we can talk in peace.

But I look down at the water, which has an eerie red tint to it now, and at my arm, and think that it's going to take a while to clean it all up. And that's not possible with him in here.

So instead, I stay quiet, until he gets the hint. "Look, I know you're upset at the moment, I've noticed. But you can talk to me. I'm worried. I'll be downstairs,"

I listen as his footsteps get fainter, before getting out of the bath, and pulling the plug. I go to the cupboard, and get out one of the fluffy black towels. After getting myself dry and staunching the blood flow, I rinse my arms under the tap, watching the water turn a startling red as it dissapears down the plug hole. It finally stops, and I have to mop up the floor and bath, where there are little spatters of blood, where it's dripped down my arms. Then dump all the towels straight into the wash bin, and hurry into my room, locking the door behind me.

I go straight to sleep, falling into dreams which involve Sam in gold shorts, and Kurt in Latex. It's not long before it turns nasty, involving me locked in my bedroom, and dying from the cuts it'd inflicted on myself, with Mercedes bearing down on me, with penciled on eyebrows, and wearing fishnets.

_Sunday 12__th__ May_

I wake up to a scene of horror. The sheet underneith me, and my pillow have alarming scarlet stains, and my hair matted and crispy with blood. My arms are also covered in dried red. They must've started bleeding again during the night. I quickly get up and throw all my stuff into the wash, before jumping to the shower and scrubbing myself, careful not to set off the blood flow again. Afterwards, I take out the pink cream from our bathroom cabinet, and apply it onto the cut skin, hoping it will help to heal it quicker. I feel stupid for doing it in the first place. A split second decision that will stay with me forever as the razor scars my skin. I feel discusted with myself, looking away from my arm, which is now alerting me of the searing pain which I didn't feel before.  
>Hurting myself never was, and never <em>is<em> going to help me in any way, shape or form. Too bad I actually had to learn that from making the mistake.  
>I decide to go and see a counceller tomorrow, and skip school. I can't exactly see myself talking to Miss. Pillsberry about this. I'll go to the clinic in town, and they can refer me.<p>

_7 p.m.  
><span>_My phone starts buzzing.

"Hello?"

"Okay, so here's the deal," Genie's voice comes down the phone, "I invited Puck over, because I thought my parents were out for the whole day. Turns out – they weren't! So we were upstairs on my bed, at it like there's no tomorrow, and in walks my Mom, asking me if I want Chinese for dinner,"

"Did you want Chinese for dinner?"

"Yeah, it was really good! But anyways, it was the most awkward moment in my life. She didn't even leave. She just stood there, looking like her eyes were going to fall out of her head,"

I can't help but laugh, glad to hear from Genie, someone who doesn't remind me of why I went all depressed in the first place.

"It's not funny!" she explodes furiously, "My parents have _forbidden_ him from my house!"

"It was only a matter of time," I chuckle, going through my homepage, and onto Puck's facebook wall. His status makes me laugh even harder.

Noah 'Puck' Puckerman – Genie 'blows' Puckerman - _Oops, busted…_

Santana Lopez, Finn Hudson, Artie 'fly' Abrahms_ and_ Annie Fredricks_ like this._

Annie Fredricks - _caught in the act ;)  
><em>Sam Evans – _What happened?  
><em>Santana Lopez – _Work it out, moron.  
><em>Annie Fredricks – _Lay off it, Lopez.  
><em>Santana Lopez – _Bite me, Fredricks.  
><em>Quinn Fabray – _Come on Santana, leave it alone. _

My heart jumps in my chest at the fact that she stuck up for me.

Santana Lopez – _That's right Quinny, stick up for your girlfriend.  
><em>Finn Hudson – _Huh? O.o  
><em>Annie Fredricks – _what's THAT supposed to mean?  
><em>Mercedes Jones – _Let it go Santana..  
><em>Noah 'Puck' Puckerman – _Guys, don't argue. Esspecially not on my status!_


	12. Chapter 12

Okay, again it's been ages, but I've just been busy. I start school again tomorrow. Blerugh. Anyways, thanks to everyone who Reads, Enjoys, and Reviews, you're awesome.  
>This has quite a lot in. Hope you love it as much I did (:<p>

I obviously don't own anything. If I did Chord Overstreet would be a regular ):

_Chapter 12_

_Monday 13__th__ May_

I let Blaine drive this morning.  
>"I found your razor on the side of the bath,"<p>

"Oh, okay.."

"It had blood on it,"

I glance at my Brother, who's eyes are fixed firmly on the road. "Yeah, and?"

"There was blood on the sheets this morning too,"

"I.. accidentally cut myself while shaving last night,"

"Yeah.."

"Well, what else could it be?" I ask, indignantly, although at the same time feeling kinda bad for lying.

He stops the car outside Dalton Academy. "I think you know what else it could be," he says, his eyebrows raised a little.

"I slipped while shaving, what's the big deal?"

He shakes his head, getting out so as I can slide into the drivers seat. He leans in and kisses my cheek, before I head off.

I turn into the school, and carefully pull on the baggiest hoodie I own. It's a lime green Hollister one, and it's perfect because it's just started drizzling, so it's not going to look odd if I wear it inside. I walk quickly up the stone steps, weaving through students, and entering the building through a door leading into a corridor.

I go to the library, planning to avoid everyone for the rest of the day. I'll go to English and Chemistry, finish my corsework, and then hit the doctors at break. At least I can be back by Glee. Maybe I won't go to glee on second thoughts… I might just go home, and rest. Work on my solo.

_English_

Sam knocks on the door, and has breif words with my teacher, before sliding into the seat next to me.

"Wassup hot stuff?"

"Nothing. I'm just going to try something out," he murmers, taking a pen out of his back pack.

"Romeo and Juliet. How original," I tut, scrawling the title down in my English book, while Sam does the same.

"I've never seen it,"

"Me either," I shrug.

I now know why I've never seen it; I can't understand a word of what they're saying. I mean, it's English..but the words are in the wrong order. And everyone is like, crying and it's like 'Oh my God, how are you even making sense out of anything they're saying?'.

We get to the bit where Murcutio or whoever it is, is screaming in gibberish at Romeo.

"I thought Quinn was bad. That was just one big mood swing," Sam says, when pauses the dvd.

"Excellent Sam! Good observation! Murcutio does get rapid mood swings, and its his rampant rages which lead to his downfall later in the play,"

"He gets shot," Genie says bluntly from the row in front.

"Let's not ruin it for the rest of the class Genie," Mrs presses play.

"I'm not gonna lie; if Leonardo Di'Caprio climbed onto _my_ balcony, there would be no staring through the fishtank crap. It would be more 'come forth to thine bed. Now',"

"I thought that only guys were obsessed with sex?"

"And Tina," Mike pitches in.

"Nope. Girls are too. Well…me and Annie are," Genie grins to the two boys.

"Speak for yourself!" I mutter.

Sam just smiles.

I end up spending all of Chemistry and near enough all of break with him. It seems that he decided opening up wasn't that bad of an idea.

"I've gotta go," I say, getting up from the bleachers we're currently sitting on.

"But we've got double physics now. You're seriously going to tell me you want to miss out on all that fun?"

"Yeah, I've got an.." I struggle to think of a word, I can't just say to him 'Oh yeah, I'm just popping up to see the local shrink because there are a 5 fucking big ass cuts on my arms' so I settle with, "Appointment. At the doctors,"

"So, I'll see you in Glee?" he asks, a hint of hope in his voice.

"I don't know," I mumble, going to turn away.

He grabs my arm to stop me from walking away, only gentally, but it's right over my..injuries, and it feels like he's holding red hot pokers to my skin.  
>I jump backwards, drawing in a sharp breath, a pain reflex. He lets go, and I can just see that he's frowning underneith his fringe.<p>

I walk away fast, when he shouts: "Annie!" and I turn around, begging that he doesn't start asking all sorts of awkward questions. He doesn't. He just shoves his hands in the pockets of his blue jacket, and says "Come to glee,"

I don't say anything. I just turn, and continue to my destination: The car.

I don't have to wait that long to see the Therapist. Probably because of the time or whatever. But she's an older woman, with glasses, and a friendly face. When I step into her office I'm a little releived. I wouldn't want to be talking about sexual matters with a guy.

It's kinda hard when I first start..but then it starts flowing. It just kept flowing, and it was like word vomit. I couldn't stop myself. At the end she perscribes me these pills, and I leave, feeling considerably better than I did about 2 hours ago. She wants me to go and see her once every two weeks.

"What are they?" I asked the woman at the Chemist desk as she was taking my perscription.

"They're basically happy pills, sweetie," she told me, handing me a transparent orange tube with little round white pills inside.

Happy pills sounded good to me. I'm supposed to take 2 at the start of the morning when I wake up, everyday. I take some with Water as soon as I get back in the car. They take 20 minutes to set in, so I drive to Dalton. It's Lunch break there too, so I hunt out Blaine, finding him in the lunch halls with a couple of his friends.

I apologise, now feeling the drugs kick in, and he smiles, and says it's fine, he just worries when I don't talk. 'It's not natural' he says, and I laugh, punching his shoulder. I hang with them for a bit, before hugging him and going back to the car. As I drive back, I'm looking forward to Glee Club, feeling slightly buzzed, and as if all my problems had just drifted right out of the window. It's definitely a welcome change.

I sit through Tech class with Ellie, having some good old banter.

"Are you okay?" she aks, as if slightly alarmed when I pull her into a tight hug.

"I'm great," I smile widely.

"O-kay," she laughs, turning back to her computer screen. I just elbow her, and giggle.

Glee

I skip in, realise what I'm doing, and clear my throat, sitting down in the middle row. Finn spots me and comes over, giving me one of his gigantor hugs, which I love. Sam doesn't say anything to me when he comes in. He just sits on the chair in front of me, and smiles once.

When everyone is in, Mr. Schue says: "Before we get started, we're going to head down to the Audotaurium. The guys have a song they've been working on,"

Everyone gets up, bouncing with excitement off to the audotaurium. I stare suspiciously at Sam, Puck and Finn, who are walking in front of me, close together, whispering. Is this why Sam wanted me to come to glee tonight?

Quinn slides an arms around my waist. In the back of my brain, someone is mumbling: 'People are going to catch on..', but the much louder voice is saying: 'Nah, me and Quinn are besty's. Everyone knows that. They're all pretty thick anyway; we're safe for now'.

3:45 p.m.

Audotaurium.

The boys dissapear behind the curtains, and I slip off my hoodie, to reveal a tight long sleeved t-shirt. I look down at my chest, which I can't actually see my stomach over. I really don't know where I get this big boobed gene from.

The lights dim, and the music starts. I beam widely because I _love_ this song!

"_I'll take you home if you don't leave me at your front door," _Sam sings the first line, looking straight at me.

"_Your body's cold but girl were getting so warm," _Finn sings.

All the boys are wearing black waistcoats, and are looking super hot.

"_And I was thinking of ways that I could get inside," _Sam takes over again, looking me solidly in the eye, and I'm thinking about our masks, and how he's figuring it out. I don't care what anyone says, that boy is so far from stupid.

Artie sings the next couple of lines, and then they all take away the chorus, breaking out into amazingly choreographed dance moves.

"_Your lips tremble but your eyes are in a straight stare," _again, Sam's eyes meet mine. I stare back curiously.

Of course, the next line has to be Puck's: _"We're on the bed but your clothes are laying right there,"_ and then he does the move which he is apparently most renowned for – thusts his hips into his hands, and then mimes an explosion, which makes me think dirty things.

I can't help but sit and grin the rest of the way through the song at all the boys on stage. All of their voices, and esspecially Mike's dancing (which is just mesmerising). I'll admit, my gaze remains on Sam for the most part. His voice…

When they finish, everyone claps, me probably being the loudest, and everyone laughs as I run up on stage and get tackled into a big group hug.

"Careful blondie, you're gonna knock someone out," Puck jokes, eyeing my chest, although when I glance down at it heaving up and down, I'm not sure if he is joking.

"Zip it Puckerman," I scowl, although I don't feel like scowling. I feel like jumping up and down, and smiling, and dancing and singing, _all in one go._

"He's just jealous," Sam laughs, putting a big arm around my neck and pretending to strangle me. I don't know why. Boys are quite weird sometimes though, there's just no explantion.

Puck just smirks knowingly as Sam's fingers brush across the almost faded bruise on my neck, which unbeknown to him, he gave me.  
>I soon discover that they had all coined some 'creative' nicknames for me during Physics, including such orginials as 'Sugartits' and 'Boobs-Magee'.<p>

"I had nothing to do with this," Sam holds his hands up above his head.

"You're a terrible liar," I can't help but grin at the boy who flicks his fringe out of his eyes.

After rehursals, which end half an hour early, since everyone wanted to get home and work on their Solo's, I stay behind, looking at some sheet music that's laying stray on the Piano. I don't want to go home. Not just yet. I'm not ready for Janie to come and piss on my bonfire.

I look around the room, and smile at Brad as he gets up from the stool on the piano.  
>I go to pick up one of the guitar's, and then see that Sam's is sat in the corner. Why is that still here? I go over and take in my hands, putting the strap across my shoulder, and drag my fingers slowly over the strings.<p>

"Enjoying yourself?" I hear a voice behind me. If it wasn't for the shoulder strap, the guitar would be on the floor.

I swivel fast, and see Sam leaning on the door frame, with his hands, _again_, in his jacket pockets. He's got a soft smile on his face, and I melt a little. Then I blush, and put the intrument down. "Sorry,"

He doesn't say anything else. He just wanders towards me, the smile fading as he comes to a stand still in front of me. He puts his hands on my shoulders, and lets them slide down my arms. Then before I know it, he's right over the sore spots. Again, my breath hitches. He looks from my arms, to my eyes, and just says really quietly: "Please?"

I don't reply. He holds them, with the forearms upwards, and gentally rolls up the sleeve on one, revealing the scabbed red lines. I close my eyes, not wanting to see his reaction.  
>I hear him breathe out, and then start to stroke them, really gentally. I feel my brow pucker. Shouldn't he be like, freaking out? Yelling at me that I'm mental, and phyco, and weird, and emotionally unstable? I feel his lips just brush my cheek, and begin to nip at the skin on the crook of my neck. He holds my hips, bringing me closer as he marks my neck, right near the place he left it last time. I keep my eyes closed, placing my hands on his chest, breathing in his scent. He smells really fresh, like DKNY, and mint mixed together. It's so nice to be close to him (really annoying that I think that). I think that maybe the pills need a while to start properly working.<p>

"Why would you do that?" he whispers against my skin, making it vibrate under his lips, and making it tickle a little bit.

"I don't know, it was stupid, and I know it was, but..I'd heard all about the people who cut themselves for release of personal stress, and I was so worried about everything,"

"About what?" he murmers, continuing to suck at the sweet spot.

"Friends. Home," I hesitate before saying, "You,". I open my eyes, my vision a blur of the blue from his jacket, and blonde from his hair.

"Me?" he stops kissing my neck, and looks at me, our forheads almost touching. He seems slightly worried, and I realise what I just insinuated.

"Oh, God, no, not like that! I meant like...i don't know," I let myself slump against his chest. I don't know how to explain anything to Sam without revealing too much.

"Please just..dont do it again, okay?"

"I won't," I promise him.

"When you're worried about stuff and it gets that serious you don't hurt yourself, it just backfires. You talk to someone okay?"

"That's what I did today actually," I admit to him, "I bunked Physics to go and see a Shrink in town,"

"A shrink?"

"Yeah," I say quietly, now embarrassed, and sounding like a proper phyco, "I felt better though, and after she gave me these weird pills-"

"Keep taking the pills, but next time you have stuff on your mind, just..drop a line," he smiles, rubbing my upper arm, and kissing my cheek, before leaving the Choir room.

Oh dear God. I like him.

_Tuesday 14__th__ May _

_7:25 a.m._

I popped the pills with my Coffee which Dad brought me up this morning, and then got in the shower. Afterwards, I blowdry my hair, and flick it out at the sides kindof like how Quinn had it the other week. I also washed Sam's football shirt and put it in a gift bag, just for effect. I'm going all out with Sam today I decide, so I wear one of the lowest and nicest tops I own. Its one of my favourites. I swear, if someone slushies me today, I _will_ be having one of those Sweet 16 tantrums. The top is ribbed to make my waist smaller, and pushes my boobs up and in. It's square neck, and navy, which I wear with a pair of super cute daisy dude floral shorts and white lace up peep-toe strap heels. People may say that I'm a hoe for showing cleavage, but in short I waited too long for my chest to grow to size it has to keep it hidden away. And the shorts are short, but its supposed to be warm today and I kinda like my legs. They're long, and slim but not horribly skinny, and quite tan too. Besides, look at the Cheerio's – their skirts are tiny; they bend over in one of those skirts, and I swear you can see their ovaries. I mean, it's a blessing because most of the Cheerio's are super hot. Particularly Quinn and Britts. And Santana, even though I'm basically her bitch and she's _a_ bitch.  
>Anyway. When I woke up this morning I realised what was going on at home. Janie has <em>brain washed<em> my Dad. She's got him so into her routine of perfectness that my arrival has fucked things up a treat and she doesn't like it.  
>But guess what? She and her perfect little image can suck it. I can't ever let her see that she gets to me. When push comes to shove, you shove back harder. Or something like that...<p>

On my way out the door Janie sneers that I should be working on a street corner in my ear. I just pretend I haven't heard anything. So I get to school, and see the _perfect_ start to my day, right there in front of me. Sam, wearing a dark blue check shirt and skinny jeans. Not _Kurt tight_ skinny, hot type skinny, and that _really_ nice smile which turns up the corner of his mouth, showing off his teeth on one side.  
>It's like walking through the gates of my personal heaven. Today I'm wearing a big flesh coloured plaster over the hicky which Sam gave me last night. It's massive, very purplepink and _extremely _noticable. I couldn't risk it.

I'm at my locker when I feel someones hands on my ass. I don't even bother to turn around. "Evans; touch my ass again and you'll be going home without an arm,"

"Feeling your usual self then?" he grins.

I just narrow my eyes.

"Sorry, but that outfit just brings out the worst in me,"

"Awh, Sammy, a bad side? Whoever told you that?" I tease, pinching his cheek playfully.

He laughs, and I hold up the party bag with his shirt in it.

"Wow. A gift? We haven't even had our first date," he grins, taking the bag from me curiously.

"Don't hold your breath,"

He smiles, holding the packet in one hand.

"So where were you on Thurday at Glee? I never got around to asking you,"

"Ugh, my parents called me and Blaine home so as they could rant about our 'potentially dangerous' Saturday night," I roll my eyes.

"Oh Saturday night had _a lot _of potential," he smirks, and I can't help lifting my hand to where the old hicky from that Saturday was.

"Shame we never saw that true potential,"

"A shame for _you_, yes," he winks and I shake me head, pressing my lips together.

"But listen," he lowers his voice, and steps a little bit closer, "for what it's worth, If anything like that happens again, you know, you getting too drunk to drive and stuff, you can count on me. I've got your back," and he's all cute and sincere.

Then he takes advantage of the closeness, the mood going from serious to light in a second as he puts his hands on my waist, after putting his 'gift' in my locker.

"You know, I _really_ like that shirt on you," I play with the collar of the deep blue fabric.

"Mm, and you look really hot," he murmers, our heads again almost touching.

Then he ducks, and drops a peck on my cheek, smiling the whole time.

"Ooft," I shiver, letting what I'd like to think is a seductive look take over my features as I lean up and whisper in his ear: "And just for that, you get to watch me walk away," I strut off down the hall, not knowing where that burst of confidence came from, swinging my hips. I can practically see that winners smile on Sam's lips.

_11:15 a.m._

Standing in the line to get a drink (_not_ a slushee), when someone taps me on the shoulder. I have to say that I'm surprised when I turn around and find myself facing Mercedes. We haven't spoken since that Sunday. Sam for Rachel and Kurt.

"We missed you at Glee on Thursday," she tells me, kind of sheepishly.

"Yeah I heard," I pick up my drink of choice.

"Look, I'll just get too it; I'm sorry about that Sunday," and then her phone clears its throat, and she corrects herself, "Sorry, _we're_ sorry,"

"We?"

"Me and Kurt,"

"Mercedes, I can speak for myself," the soprano voice says firmly.

"Okay," Mercedes sighs, holding the purple phone next to me as I pay for my smoothie and sit down at a lunch table.

"I know you haven't spoken to Blaine about what happened-"

"I haven't spoken to _anyone_ about what happened," except my Shrink.

"I know. And I really owe you an apology. I never meant to sound so judgy. _Me_ of all people. And Mercedes says the same-"

"I'm sorry too Annie. It just didn't make sense. Sam is just so.._all over you_, and he's so hot. But you obviously have your reasons and we need to respect that. And if you like guys _and_ girls then you do. You don't need any of our permissions. Glee club is full of the ousiders who want to belong. And that's how we should be making you feel, not the opposite. We don't have the right to judge you, so we're sorry," Mercedes finishes.

Kurt sighs, obviously disgruntled that Mercedes had stolen the speech, "Yeah, what she said,"

I let myself smile, finding that I can forgive them easily. "It's okay guys. I'm really confused. I could use some good friends right now. I mean, I like Sam. He can be an asshole sometimes, but those _lips_,"

"They are rather fabulous," Kurt says, and Mercedes agrees.

"And what about Quinn?" Mercedes asks.

"There is no what about Quinn. It was the alcohol," I assure them, feeling terrible for lying, but knowing that I can't admit the truth right now.  
>I need to sort this out.<p>

_12:30 p.m._

_Geometry._

I could die of boredom. I'm not even joking.  
>And that's why when Mr. Schue calls my name I jump up and breathe a sigh of releif.<br>"What's up Mr. Schue?" I ask.

"Principle Figgins wants you in his office," he tells me, waiting for my teacher to nod so as I can follow him out.

"What did we do?" I question in confusion as I see Sam leaning against the wall outside Figgins office.

"I don't know yet," Mr. Schue shrugs.

"Villiam!" the priciple shouts.  
>He takes in a big breath, and walks through the second glass door, leaving me with Sam.<p>

"Is it just me who is thoroughly confused?"

"Nope, I'm a little mistified myself," I answer.  
>We watch the Principle lay into Mr. Schue, who just sits there, pinching the birdge of his nose, as if hed been here one too many times before. Anyhow, it doesn't seem good. Me and Sam just look at each other, and when Mr. Schue ushers us in, he puts his hands on my hips and leads me through. I blush, and we both sit on the seats in front of Figgins desk.<p>

"Now, there has been some..concern, raised about the two of you-" Mr. Schue starts off before Principle Figgins interupts him; "Our security camera's show _you_, Mr. Evans, leading you, Miss. Fredricks, into the boys locker room. Now, I am not a prude, but it later showed Miss. Fredricks emerging wearing Mr. Evans football shirt! Not only was it innapropriate dress, but as for the situation in hand, there is a _time and a place_,"

"Which is preferably when we're 25 and not In the boys changing room right?" Sam guesses.

"That's not what we're saying," Mr. Schue continues, "You two are very good students, and I know you both quite well now, you're a..lovely couple and everything, but you're both smart and if you're going to do, well, _that_ then maybe not in school," Mr. Schue pats both our shoulders.

I lean over and whisper in Sam's ear: "Do you think we should tell them that they've got the wrong end of the stick?"

He grins back, and whispers: "What, and ruin all the fun? Nah,"

I giggle, then turn back to Figgins and Mr. Schue: "Yes, yes, abstinance is key, we get it, can we leave now? This is more awkward than watching sex and the city with my Dad,"

"Yes, you can leave, but I've booked you in with the school nurse. Go and get your bags from lesson, and go straight there," the Principle gives us one permission slip between the two of us, excusing us from lesson.

When we get out I look at Sam. Sam looks at me. I feel a serious fit of the giggles coming on.  
>Sure enough, when me and Sam start heading up the stairs and he slides an arm around my waist, the laughing comes on. We go through the halls, laughing hysterically; esspecially when he piggybacks me <em>into<em> my Geometry class, which results in wolf whistling and cat calls. I drop from Sam's back, and clear my throat, holding out the yellow slip for my teacher to take. He raises his eyebrows (which are grey and bushy), and looks at Sam with what could only be decribed as suspicion, but nods.

I collect my things, and escape to Sam, who is lingering by the door, hands stuffed in his pockets, with _everyone_ staring at him.  
>We go to his class in a far more appropriate fashion; just walking, side by side. (Sensible, but <em>way<em> less fun) before going to the nurse.

We sit in the waiting room, getting the hysteria under control. I try not too look at Sam. That would be a very, very not good idea. For one, he would know how damn gorgeous he looks in that shirt, and for two, it would start of my giggles again. I just find it funny that they thought that we did it in the guys locker room. And it was just their attitude about it. I mean, they called us into the principles office and told us that we need to do it somewhere else. Seriously?  
>An image pops into my head, and suddenly the idea becomes far more appealing.<br>I don't know whether he actually went the whole way with Santana. I'm not going to ask, because that would be weird because it's not exactly lunch room talk. Well..then again, we go to McKinley. Anyway, it would be totally unacceptable seeing as I couldn't care less about Sam's sex life. Not unless I'm in it. Which I'm not. Not unless 'Third Base' is any more than kissing and feeling. I'll google it. It's kinda hard to imagine Sam as a virgin though. Big football star and lady magnet. How could he be?

I've been thinking so hard about Sam's possibly existant sex life that I don't realise our names have been called and Sam is pulling on my hand.

We go in, and close the door.

"So, Miss. Fredricks; are you on the pill?" the nurse claps her hands together on the desk.

"Uh..no,"

"And how long have you two been sexually active with each other?" she leans forward.

I do not look at Sam.

"Oh I don't know. About a month? Is that right babe?" he answers, touching my arm.

"Um, yes, I think that's accurate," I say through gritted teeth.

"Well, maybe the pill would be a good idea, just something to think about,"

"Yeah, good idea. Although..she does go a bit rough on me sometimes," Sam says out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, really?" the nurse's eyebrows shoot up.

"Yeah, _really_ Sam?" I widen my eyes.

"Oh yeah," Sam replies, settling back into the chair, and folding his hands across his stomach, "She's into all this _S&M_ stuff, and I'm just not feeling it. Well I _am_ but.."

"Maybe you should try things that Sam enjoys too?" the Nurse suggests.

She can't be serious? Is this really what people come to the school nurse to talk about? No wonder she's so popular. Giving sex tips to everyone who walks through the door.

"I know," I sigh dramatically, "I've tried dressing up as Captin Hook, but I'm not sure it's working for me,"

The Nurse just looks gobsmacked. Then very embaressed. As does Sam, whose ears go very red.  
>She mumbles something about Doctors and Councelling, then shoves a bunch of condoms at Sam and pamphlets at me before staring down at the desk and says: "Thank you for coming,"<p>

We get up and leave. I don't think that school nurse will ever be able to look at either Sam or myself ever again.

"Captin Hook? Really?" he asks in dispair.

"Don't get your boxers in a knot. She now thinks that I like _chaining_ you up and _whipping_ you!"

He closes his eyes, his eyebrows knitting together. "Okay, you just sent me to a really scary mental place,"

I smile, turning and walking down the hallways once again. Then his lips are at my ear and he says: "Besides, I prefer Tinkerbell," and I start giggling again.

"Does that mean that it's added to our movie list?" I guess.

"No, I'm not gay,"

I raise an eyebrow. "You mean 'I love Disney films, I just don't like to admit it', right?"

He just smirks.

"Does that mean that you're into this whole Role play thing?" I enquire curiously. I know how it works. There's loads which turn you on, and only a handful of things you'll _admit_ turn you on. I want to know if this is one of those for Sam.

"Humour me," he raises his eyebrows once, grinning.

I just laugh, and shove him in the direction of the lockers.

3:02 p.m.

I arrive to Glee early. Mr. Schue is already there, and so is Rachel.  
>I hop up onto the Piano while Mr. Schue fiddles around with some papers, and Rachel sits on the front row pretending not to be interested in what I'm about to say.<p>

"Hey Annie. How did the meeting go?"

"Oh, just peachy. Sam told her that I was into _chains and whips_,"

Mr. Schuester frowns. "That's not a nice image,"

"Precisely," then I lower my voice, "Look, you know that Sam and I weren't up to anything remotely dirty in the boys locker room-"

"Well, from how it looked..we had to take certain..precautions,"

"Yeah well, we're not _together_. I got slushed, and Sam just pointed me in the right direction,"

"The boys shower room?" the teacher raises his eyebrows doubtly, as Puck had done.

I'm so fed up of everyone assuming the worst of teenagers! The bad ones put the good ones to shame.

"I promise, there was nothing sexual about it. He was just the one who happened to be around," I explain.

"How convenient," he see's that I'm about to start again, so he hurries to change subject, "More to the point, who slushee'd you?"

I drop my gaze, pressing my lips together.

"Come on Annie, who was it?" he asks which concern.

"Someone in glee," I whisper, not wanting to be overheard by Rachel.

"Santana?"

I nod, barely surprised that he jumped to _that_ conclusion.

"Don't worry, she'll be dealt with. And if she asks who told, I'll just say the security camera caught her, okay?"

I nod greatfully, and he rubs my back as I hop off the piano.

_9:10 p.m._

_Home._

Everyone is mega excited to do an actual show. Still, needs to do his re-writes, hence: Solo's, to draw out the time or something.

I replay the scene earlier with Sam:

"_Besides, I prefer Tinkerbell," _

"_Does that mean that it's added to our movie list?" _

"_No, I'm not gay," _

"_You mean 'I love Disney films, I just don't like to admit it', right?"_

_Smirk. _

"_Does that mean that you're into this whole Role play thing?"_

"_Humour me," he raises his eyebrows once, grinning and biting his lip._

And that's when I got an idea.  
>I start rifling through one of the boxes that Mom sent down, until I find the dress I'd made for a fancy dress party last year. I hold it out in front of me, smirking.<br>Oh, I'll do _a lot_ more than humour him.


End file.
